


Standing Right In Front of You

by Maribelle



Category: Christian Kane - Fandom, Christian Kane RPF, Leverage RPF, The Librarians RPF
Genre: Celebrities, Erotica, F/M, Kissing, Post-Apocalypse, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 225,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7497063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maribelle/pseuds/Maribelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is the only circumstance in which an ordinary Kaniac could have Christian Kane all to herself? A post-apocalyptic fantasy romance.</p><p>This started as a little fantasy - how could I get my celebrity crush to myself? It's turned into a lot more. It has become, among other things, a whole fantasy world for me to escape to. Whatever I've been struggling with - grief, loss, identity, belonging, pain, longing, loneliness, connection, joy, loss of control - poor Amanda and Christian get put through. I hope you enjoy the ride!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - Not Alone Any More

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Christian Kane, his songs or lyrics, or any of the names of his characters or shows.

Chapter 1

Amanda looked up at the sparks floating into the night sky - the stars were so brilliant, now, with no city lights. She pulled aside the grate that had cooked her supper and put on another log. With the yards so overgrown and weedy she had set up her little campfire on the sidewalk. She sat in the patio love seat she had pulled off of someone’s porch, absently petting the Corgi mix, Jack, on her lap with the little terrier, Cody, at her feet by the fire. The night grew cool as she put the dog down, went to the van, and looked through the remaining fireworks. Jack trotted along at her heels but Cody stayed put by the fire.

“Are you going to help mommy? Are you a good boy?” she asked. Jack sat expectantly looking up at her, because there were often treats in the van. “I know, buddy. Not much point. No one’s going to see them. Mommy’s going to do it anyway.”

She found a few skyrockets left - those and the comets were her favorite because they left a trail from the ground, and in theory someone would be able to follow it back to her. It was well over three years since the pandemic ended and she’d woken up alone, three long years since she’d last seen another person, so she had no real hope anymore of this doing any good.

Jack knew to stay put when she walked away from her little camp. Fireworks had scared her to death before, but she was used to it now. She set off the first skyrocket and stepped back to watch it light up the sky.

“Ok,” she called and Jack came running. “Mommy’s getting so brave now, huh, Jackie?” After cleaning up and packing the van she moved away from her camp to set off the second skyrocket, leaving her pot of soup covered by the fire for breakfast. She sent up the third right before she went to pick a house to sleep in for the night, not bothering to look up at the red trail.

“Mommy’s tired. You boys ready for bed? Who wants a treat?” It took her a second to realize they weren’t under her feet like they usually were at the word ‘treat.’ She looked up at Jack’s short whuff. The dogs stared into the blackness beyond her fire, fur on end and ears forward.

“What did you find? A deer?” She stopped to listen. Cody started forward and stopped, whining. She heard wind in the trees, and crickets. She stared but of course there was nothing to be seen with no streetlights or house lights in the decaying suburb.

“I don’t hear anything. What are you . .” She trailed off. Was it a bird, this late? The call of an animal – wait . . . it was familiar.

“A car horn? Where?” She could hear it now, over the night sounds. Her heart pounded. Was it coming closer?

“Do you guys hear that?” she yelled. “Is that a car?” She ran to the van, fingers fumbling as she got out more fireworks, hands shaking as she lit the match. She set off three in a row and stopped to listen as the explosions and whistling faded.

“Shut up!” she hollered - the dogs were barking now and she could barely hear it. She ran to the driver door of the van and started hitting the horn. Should she do a pattern, short-long or something? She couldn’t think, after all this time imagining what she would do if she found anyone. She finally just leaned on the horn, letting it blare as her eyes scanned the darkness.

There, a pinprick of light, bouncing, disappearing, and then reappearing closer. She grabbed the dogs and put them in the back of the van to muffled their barks, went and hit the horn a few more times, then ran toward what were now clearly headlights. She stopped and waited barely in the circle of firelight, mouth dry, heart pounding.

“What do you think, boys? Are we not alone anymore?” she whispered.

A big vehicle came barreling down the empty street and within seconds it was close enough to see, a red pickup truck with a black cap on the bed, the headlights blinding her briefly before swinging to the right and screeching to a stop.

Someone else is alive, she thought. I’m not alone.

The door swung open and someone stepped down, briefly illuminated in the cab light.

A man, she thought. She felt a shiver of fear with her relief and joy. She had thought about this – the wrong kind of man would be worse than no one. She would wait and see, but she was prepared to leave the dogs in the van and take off if she didn’t feel safe.

He walked toward her, backlit by his headlights. He was about her height, that was about all she could tell. She couldn’t think what to say, even after years of imagining this moment.

He stopped about twenty feet away, and then came a few steps closer. “I saw your fireworks.” His voice was gravely and low.

She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. “Yes. Good. I’m glad.”

“I didn’t know anyone was left.” He paused, and she imagined him searching for words and trying to slow the pounding in his chest as well. “Ma’am, can I come closer?”

“Yes. I mean – Yes. Of course.” She stood stock still as he came toward her, outlined in light from his truck. “Are you alone?” she asked. “Are you with anyone else?”

“No ma’am. I haven’t seen another person for a year and a half.”

He had someone else for a while, she thought. Or the pandemic had hit wherever he was later than it had hit her. He came toward her, a black shape getting larger.

“Wait,” she said. He stopped. “I can’t see you. Your headlights are behind you. Can you go, like, over there?” She pointed to her side, where he would be coming up to her between the fire and the headlights.

“I’m sorry.” He walked to the side, and then started toward her again. “Is there anyone else here?”

She ignored the question for now. She liked the ma’ams and southern drawl and that he had respected her request to see him as he approached, but she was still vulnerable. He didn’t need to know yet that she was all alone.

“I’m glad you saw the fireworks,” she said. “I was about to leave town.”

“Yes, ma’am. That was a good idea. I’ve been driving around looking for people for years. I thought I was the last person alive.” His voice caught as he stopped a few feet away.

They stared at each other. He had long brown wavy hair, down past his shoulders, and a full beard and mustache, rough and dark brown. He wore worn jeans and a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with broad shoulders and tan, muscular arms.

His piercing blue eyes took her in. “Wow,” he said. “You are a sight for sore eyes.” Her breath caught. He hesitated, then took a few more steps and held out his hand. “I’m Chris.” She reached out and took it. They didn’t shake, just stood there, holding hands.

“I can’t believe this,” she said. “Are you real? There was nobody . . .” Her heart was pounding and she could hardly hear her own voice past the roar in her head. Maybe she wasn’t imagining this - his hand was so real and warm in hers. It gave her chills, the first human touch in almost four years.

“I know,” he said. His hand tightened in hers and his voice, rough and warm, cut through the din in her head. “I can’t . . .” He stopped and swallowed, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’m so glad to find someone. Is there anyone else?”

She just stared at him, pulse racing. Her skin felt cold and clammy and she was breathing so fast she felt like she was going to faint. His smile faded and he took a half a step toward her, reaching out with his other hand.

“Are you OK?” he asked. His voice was lower but soothing, the rough edge gone.

“Oh my God. Yes. I’m sorry. I just . . . I can’t -” She took a deep breath, then another. “I just didn’t expect anyone to actually find me, I guess.”

One more deep breath, and she felt like she could think and breathe again. “I’m Amanda.”

He nodded, smiling again behind his beard. “That’s pretty.”

“Thank you.” She was sharply aware that he was still holding her hand. His thumb moved slightly, sending goosebumps over her skin. She saw how his eyes crinkled as he smiled and she felt the heat of him. She pulled free and stepped back.

“I just ate,” she said. “Are you hungry?” It sounded absurd as soon as she said it, but he just smiled.

“Yes, ma’am. I can always eat.”

He looks familiar, she thought. I feel like I know him. But that’s ridiculous – what are the odds that the only other person alive in the country is someone I know?

He followed her to the fire as she set the grate back on the flame and put on the cast iron dutch oven. “It will be warmed up again in a minute. I made a Mexican soup thing.”

“Smells good. I haven’t been cooking much.” His voice sent shivers down her spine. They stood awkwardly for a moment, both started to speak, and they laughed.

“Sit down,” she said, motioning to the patio loveseat. “So where did you come from?” How stupid, she thought. But what else do I say? He sat next to her, and she was vividly aware of the few inches between them and the smell of him and the heat from him. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her, and she realized she was staring too. He seemed as unsure as she was – what do you say, after all, to the only other person alive?

He leaned toward her and she scooted back, aware of how close they were and how vulnerable she was. He stopped and leaned back against the cushion, putting more distance between them and she breathed a little easier.

As she served the soup he told her of starting out at his folks’ ranch in Oklahoma. She shivered as he spoke – his voice was low and gravelly and it struck a chord in her.

“I didn’t realize at first that everyone was gone, because there weren’t that many people out there to begin with,” he said. He stopped and closed his eyes, savoring the stew. “This is good.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her and she studied his face, her heart pounding, hungry to soak in everything about him.

“I been mostly eating cold canned soup and meat. This is a treat.” He took a few more bites and sighed, resting the bowl in his lap. “The plague - or whatever it was - people were dying over that whole year.” He glanced up at her and she nodded.

He started to speak again, then stopped and looked away a moment. “I lost some folks right away. My dad, my niece - she was six. I was traveling and it was a bitch to get anywhere, everything just abandoned, but I got back in time to be with my mom and sister and her little boy when they passed. There was nothing to do.” His voice caught.

“I know,” she said softly. She concentrated on his words, on his face and eyes and his hands, his knuckles white where they were wrapped around the bowl on his lap. She tried not to let herself think about where she had been then, over four years ago.

He took a deep breath. “Then I got the fever, same as them, and the next thing I know I’m waking up on the floor. And they’re gone. I hadn’t had a chance to bury them, but they - their bodies were gone.” He took another breath and carefully put the bowl down by the fire. After a few moments he shook his head and told her about driving down through Texas and across the south, then up the east coast, out to the west coast and back, looking for others.

There was nowhere they could have met, she thought, but he was somehow so familiar and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him

“Three or four times,” he said, “I thought I found someone. I found a grocery store that had been lived in, or a camp that had been set up in the middle of the street. Never found the people, though.

“I found one man, in Dallas. Carson. He had a sporting goods store.” Chris shook his head again. “He was a wreck. He lost his wife and three little girls. He was still going in every day to run his store, with no one left to sell to. I talked him into coming with me, and we traveled around looking for folks. He caught the damn fever and died a year or so ago.” He looked away a moment. “Last person I saw until now.”

He paused and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back, then turned back to face her. “I sure am damn glad I found you.” His eyes crinkled as he grinned and leaned forward, touching her hand and wrapping his fingers around hers. There was something about that crooked grin that had her pulse racing, but there was a glint in his eye, too, that made her uneasy, that made her mouth dry and made the cool breeze sharpen in the sudden sweat on her skin.

Her hand in his felt so good, but when his fingers tightened slightly she felt the beginning of panic, her heart speeding up and the shiver of a cold chill, and pulled away. He immediately leaned back against the cushions and looked away. When he looked back at her his gaze had softened.

“I have a house here in Nashville,” he said, “so I’ve been here a few months trying to decide what to do next. What about you?”

She hesitated. “Let me get my boys, first.” She got up and let the whining dogs out of the van. “These are my good boys. Are you mommy’s good boys?”

Cody stayed back behind Amanda, watching the stranger, but Jack came at him and barked twice, his ruff raised. Chris grinned and held out his hand for a sniff and scratched behind Jack’s ear. The dog jumped up onto Chris’s lap and nudged his nose under his hand for a pet, his best friend for life.

Amanda laughed. “Yeah, that’s my fierce watchdog. Jack, get down!” She got a jacket and stoked the fire against the cool night, and they somehow ended up pressed against each other on the loveseat. She was aware of every inch of his leg resting against hers. She moved to poke the fire and sat down again with some space between them.

She noticed that Chris casually scooted over to give her a little more room and had to stop and close her eyes a moment - she had tried not to let herself give in to the fear, but she hadn’t been able to help imagining every scenario on how bad it could go if she met a certain kind of man.

Maybe it will be OK, she thought.

He watched her, smiling behind the full bushy beard, his blue eyes intent, waiting. She so wanted to reach out and touch him, to put her hand on his arm to make sure he was real. She was afraid to make a move, though, not sure what would happen next.

“There’s not much to tell,” she said slowly. “I was in . . . Ohio. Northern Ohio. Just about everyone I knew was gone pretty quick. When I woke up, I couldn’t stand to keep looking for very long. There was just no one left to look for.”

“So -” he lowered his head, staring at the fire. “Did you ever find anyone else?”

Still she hesitated, cautious, but felt at least that he wouldn’t attack her when he found out she was alone. “No,” she said finally. “I never did. I’ve been alone the whole time.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, his head down, then looked up and nodded, encouraging her to continue.

She told him that when it became clear that everyone was gone, she took over the nicest house she could find and set out to make herself comfortable and distracted. She drove south each winter and was traveling through Nashville from Atlanta on her way back to Ohio for the fourth year.

Even with a few inches between them, she felt the heat of him through his jeans and her yoga pants. She knew she should move further away until she knew him better and was sure she wasn’t in danger, but couldn’t quite make herself do it.

Every time she looked up he was looking at her and smiling, a little sideways grin or a big smile that lit up his eyes. Twice she thought she caught a different look, hungry and intense, but it was gone so quickly she must have imagined it.

She caught her breath as he looked from the fire back to her, meeting her gaze. I could drown in those blue eyes, she thought.

“I feel like I know you,” she said. “Have you been in Ohio before?”

“No, ma’am. Just driving or flying through.” But he was trying to hide a grin.

“I know that I know you.” She looked at him again in the light of the fire. “I know those eyes.” A thought was dawning, but she couldn’t believe it. “Chris, right?” He nodded. “Christian?”

She hesitated as she studied his face, but she was sure now. She knew those piercing blue eyes and those crow’s feet from smiling and that voice as well as someone could by watching hours of videos and TV shows and interviews and listening to music. “Christian Kane?”

He grinned and dipped his head in acknowledgement. Her heart was pounding. She expected to wake up from whatever dream she was in.

“How did I not recognize you?” she asked, her voice shaking. “How did I not know your voice?”

“Well, I’m sure you weren’t expecting me.” He hesitated, his smile a little more forced, and his hand went through his long hair, pushing it back from his face. It was such familiar gesture to her, from the characters he played as well as from his concert videos and interviews, that her heart skipped a beat.

“Um, did we . . . how do you know me?” he asked.

“Oh! Your work. I’m a fan. We met for about a minute at a Wizard World comic con in Louisville once.”

He nodded and she saw him relax a bit, his grin broad and his eyes never leaving her face. “Good. I’d hate to think I’d forgotten a pretty little thing like you.”

She laughed and lowered her head, blushing. She loved his music and acting, and often when it had been too painful to think of her family and friends, she had thought about him.

“This is crazy. How could it be you?” She looked at him again. The full beard had thrown her off, but even so she couldn’t believe she had not recognized his eyes and his voice right away, except for the sheer improbability of it. “Really? Is it you?”

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Christian Kane.”

“ _Angel_ , and _Leverage_ , and _Librarians_ , and _House Rules_?”

He looked down with a half grin. “Yep.”

She just stared at him a moment, her mouth open. Now, of course, she didn’t know how she had not recognized him the first second he had stepped into the light.

“I’m so sorry to act this way, I just don’t understand.” She stopped and shook her head. “I bet this is weird for you. Did you think what you would do if the only other person left alive was a Kaniac?” She wasn’t quite sure this was really happening – she had escaped into fantasy often enough to avoid the loneliness, but usually she could tell the difference.

He laughed at the name that had been given to his fans. “Yes, ma’am. I thought the chances were slim. I’m not that well known. I couldn’t decide which would be better, someone that never heard of me or a fan.”

“Well, you got a fan.” She looked down at his hand on his knee. “I can’t believe it.” She moved her hand a little towards his, and he took a breath and reached over and held it, running his calloused thumb across her palm. She could hardly breathe past the lump in her throat and her pounding heart. She squeezed his hand.

“That feels good,” she managed to say. “It has been a long time.”

His voice caught. “Me too, darlin’.” He shifted a bit, and his leg was pressed against hers.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath - to be touching another person after all this time, after thinking she would never see or touch anyone again . . .

“You’re like I imagined you, but better,” she said.

He laughed. “What do you mean?”

“You’re real,” she said. “I can’t believe this. I’m afraid I’m dreaming and I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. I thought I’d be alone the rest of my life.”

He let out a long, shuddering breath. “I know. I was about to give up.” He paused. “So, you . . . I don’t know what to ask. Just talk to me.”

She was so aware of the warmth and feel of his fingers wrapped around hers and where he was pressed against her that she could barely speak, much less think, but she managed to get out her story. She told him that she had lost a husband and two children, a dad and three siblings in the first two waves of the pandemic. Everyone else she knew was gone shortly after. By the end she was holed up, trying to distract herself and forget.

“I’m a teacher,” she said. “I taught special ed preschool. I didn’t have my own classroom that last year. I was consulting - I was working with some other classrooms that needed help.” She took a big breath. “If I had my own class, if I had to watch my little guys go, along with my family and everyone else . . . that would have been the last straw. I would have found a pharmacy and ended it.”

She shuddered and her chest tightened and the world began closing in, her vision darkening from the edges. Before she was completely swept away she became aware of warmth and weight anchoring her, Christian’s arm around her shoulder. Her pounding heart eased and her vision cleared. She could see again the fire dancing before her and when she glanced up Christian’s blue eyes, intense and concerned. She took a big breath and leaned back against him, feeling the panic recede a little more. He drew her close until she was nestled up against the length of him.

“Is this OK?” he asked softly.

“Oh, yes.” She took another long, shuddering breath.

I can’t believe this, she thought. She was with another person. I’m not alone, she thought. I’m not alone, like a mantra, over and over.

“Good. I’ll scoot over if you need me to, but it’s so good to touch another person again.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. She looked up at him, lost in his eyes, and finally her heartbeat was normal. She was back without the panic and grief overwhelming her this time.

He took a long breath and he had her pulled so close to him that she felt his body rise and fall. He told her more of his story. He had not been dating anyone when it happened, but in addition to his parents and sister and the rest of his large extended family, he had lost his music partners Steve and Hank and many, many co-workers who had been like family.

He described how he had spent the almost four years driving around, looking for signs of living people and trying to make sense of it. He had known so many people from all over the country that it was hard to give up the hope that someone was left, especially after he found Carson.

He still had his music, he said. “It’s the one thing that keeps me going. I miss acting, though. I can’t do that by myself.”

It was late but she couldn’t bear to move away from him. He felt her shiver, though, and sat up.

“Is there more wood for the fire?” he asked. He built up the fire, and she smiled when he stopped to pet the dogs that were dozing in the heat before sitting down by her again. “Those are good little dogs.”

“Yep. I would go crazy without company. Jack was mine, and I found Cody along the way.”

“Yeah.” He sat down and leaned forward, looking down at the fire.

“I read that you had wolves. Were they OK?” she asked. “It seemed like a lot of animals disappeared.”

He looked up and smiled and took her hand again. “Yes ma’am. I had a wolf hybrid named Wahya. Beautiful animal. I started out with him, but wolves aren’t made to ride around the country in a truck. I took him back to Oklahoma and let him go.” He was quiet. “I’m sorry about that every day, but I wasn’t thinking right at the time. But maybe it wouldn’t have been fair to try to keep him.”

“You miss him.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s hard to be alone.” He reached up and cradled her cheek in his hand, the firelight flickering as he studied her face.

“You are beautiful.” His voice was soft and husky and she shivered. The blood rushed to her face when his fingers brushed against her skin and she was drowning in his eyes. The feel of his hand, warm skin on hers, was wonderful and overwhelming. And there was that look again, she was sure this time, as if he could devour her.

A part of her wanted to argue – no, she wasn’t. She was ordinary, a fan with a crush on a TV and music star like a million others.

She brushed his hair back behind his ear, her hand lingering. He was so close – she thought he would kiss her but his hand trembled against her and he pulled back, pulling her to cuddle against him like before. Trying to catch her breath and slow her heart, she reached out and put her hand on his chest and found his heart pounding to match hers.

“That was a long time to be alone,” he said.

“Yes, it was,” she said softly.

“Longer for you than me. You haven’t seen anyone for, what, three years?” he asked.

“About three and a half, I think.”

“Long time.” He pulled her closer and his heart calmed under her hand. She reached up and touched his face, cradling his cheek as he had hers.

He became very still, then turned his head and kissed her palm.

A tingle like an electric shock passed through her. Her body was pressed against his and his muscles tightened at her gasp. He reached up and held her hand close to his face, kissed her palm again, and then her wrist, leaving a trail of liquid heat.

She looked up at him, eyes shining, trying to catch her breath, just as he pulled back to look down at her, and the next thing she knew they were kissing. The first touch felt like a shock, such an intimate touch that she was overwhelmed. His lips were so soft and his hands were holding her head as his mouth moved on hers. She gasped when his tongue teased against hers. He was so soft and warm and she was tasting whiskey and him. She had her hands in his hair and his hands were on her back, pulling her up against him.

She closed her eyes. All her senses were filled as he kissed her, his warmth and weight and scent and taste filling her world. His mouth explored hers, soft as he sucked on her lip and more firmly for a moment, groaning as his tongue thrust and tangled with hers before softening again. He finally released her and looked down into her flushed face, her wide eyes and her smile.

Her heart pounded and she couldn’t catch her breath. Although she had had other dreams of kissing Christian Kane, she thought this must be the most vivid she had ever experienced.

His eyes were bright but there was pain in them. “I’m sorry . . .” he began.

“No, don’t.” She smiled up at him. His hair hung down and she smoothed it back behind his ear, her hand continued down, her fingertips skimming along his neck and ending at the V of his shirt. “That was amazing.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I don’t want to take advantage . . .”

“Well, then, what if I take advantage?” Amanda tugged his shirt to pull him close for another lingering kiss. She felt lost in the wonder of it, his lips again soft on hers, and she found herself opening her mouth under his and his tongue again tasting, moving in her. She couldn’t believe she was being so bold - she never would have been like this before.

He put his head back and took a deep breath, his arm resting along the back of the seat around her. She wrapped her arm around his chest and sighed. “That was wonderful. I just can’t believe this, after so long.”

“I know,” he said softly. His other arm came around her and she was cradled in his warmth and strength, smelling woodsmoke and whiskey and the maleness of him. He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.

“I might have wished it would go like this if I ever found anyone,” he murmured, “but I didn’t imagine I would really find such a beautiful, sexy woman.”

“No.” She shook her head against his chest. “You just haven’t seen anybody in a long time.”

“No, darlin’, don’t do that,” he said against her hair.

She ducked her head, embarrassed. She took a breath and focused on the the feel of his arms and his breath, the warmth of him, the scent of him and taste of him on her lips.

“I never imagined this,” she said. She couldn’t have imagined any scenario in which she wouldn’t have to keep her guard up and be careful, where she could let someone touch her and kiss her like this.

You don’t really know him, a thought drifted through her mind, but she dismissed it.

She looked up and he was looking down at her, his blue eyes taking her in, a small smile on his face.

“I could drown in your eyes,” she said. She reached up and kissed him again, cradling his head with both hands, wet her lips and kissed him softly, barely brushing his mouth. Without breaking contact she got up on her knees and deepened the kiss.

His hands traveled up and down her body as she tasted him, sucking on his lower lip, light kisses over his mouth and then deepening the kiss until they both groaned. His hands rested firmly on her ribcage, pulling her close, and one hand traveled up, under her T-shirt, until his thumb was brushing the side of her bare breast. She shuddered and took a ragged breath. He froze and started to pull away.

“No,” she said. “It’s OK.” She rested her forehead against his. “It’s just – this is wonderful. It’s been so long.”

His breath was ragged as well. “I know. Me too.” He wrapped his arms around her and swung her around to sit on his lap, and he looked down at her with no smile this time but an intensity that gave her shivers, the dying firelight dancing on his face. He leaned down and kissed her and again she was overwhelmed with his soft lips moving on her, tasting and feeling and smelling him. He followed her lead to rain soft kisses on her, deepening when she thought she couldn’t take any more.

As much as his kisses filled up her every sense, she was acutely aware of his hand spreading heat through the small of her back and moving up slowly under her shirt, leaving a trail of fire, until he cupped her breast.

She moaned and arched her back under his hand. “Christian . . .”

“Mmmm . . .” Her head was back and he was kissing her neck, now, and she gasped with every touch of his rough beard and soft lips on her skin.

“We could . . . let’s . . . ” She could hardly think, much less talk, with his mouth on her skin, kissing her throat.

He finally raised his head and looked at her, his face as flushed and breathing as ragged as hers.

“Let’s go inside,” she said, breathless. “We can find a bed in one of these houses.”

He studied her a moment longer, then nodded, his breathing still heavy. “Sure. It’s late, we should get some sleep.”

She laughed and reached up to caress his face, running her thumb over his lips. “That too.”

He kissed her thumb and sat back, looking at her, drinking her in. “God, sweetheart, you sure are a sight for sore eyes.” He sat up a bit and she did too, and there was the sudden chill of being separated from his body. “I don’t want to rush you.” He started to speak, stopped, and again his hands were in his hair, pulling it back. The muscles were tight with tension in his forearms and shoulders.

He finally said, “I’ll find another house. We’ll talk in the morning.”

She recognized the husky tone from his characters and a few interviews. His voice got lower and rougher when he was on the edge or pushed too far, or when he was pulling himself back together.

“Why?” she asked. When he didn’t respond, just kept looking into the glowing coals of the fire, she felt a cold chill and her stomach dropped. How stupid could she be . . .

“If you don’t want to, it’s OK.” She scrambled to sit up. She had made an awful lot of assumptions. She had jumped all over him. Who did she think she was, thinking Christian Kane would . . .

“I won’t bother you – I hope you won’t leave, though -” She didn’t think she could stand to be alone again, after this, but what must he think of her -

“Amanda.” He wrapped his arms around her again and she was aware of every inch where they were touching - she shivered as she soaked it in, the feeling of being in contact with another person.

“I’m - fuck. I haven’t talked to a woman in years, I hardly know how.” He pulled her more tightly up against him. “I’m sorry – I do want to. But I don’t want to make any mistakes. I . . . ”

He paused to find the words, then gave a short, hard laugh and shook his head. “I don’t know how to say it without sounding like an ass, so here you go. There have been an awful lot of women that want to be with me, Amanda. Some really do want to be with me, and some with Eliot, and hell, I think some women just want to be in a country song. And some wanted more than I could give right then, and ended up hurt. I just . . .” he hesitated. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Relief washed over her but her heart continued to pound. She probably could have gone on for years, numb and going through the motions of a life and not feeling anything. She had worked so hard to shut down any feelings and any thoughts of the past and live in the moment, and that was all swept away of the joy and relief and pain of the last few hours. It was frightening, the edge of the abyss she found herself on.

She took a deep breath. “Christian.” She savored saying his name. He looked at her, and she recognized that smile, too. It held the weight of the world, but he knew he could handle it.

How strange, she thought, to recognize so much about this man and not really know him at all. “It’s OK. I won’t try to make you be anything you’re not, and I won’t expect more than you can give. I don’t want to be alone either.”

“That’s easy to say. It’s been said before.”

“It’s a little different now,” she said. He didn’t reply.

They cuddled together, both quiet, but his hand stroked her shoulder and he leaned over and kissed her temple. She ran her fingers over his chest and wrapped an arm around him.

“So, I loved Eliot,” she said. “He was so competent at everything, there was just a sense that you would be taken care of. Every scene you had with women, I could put myself there, and feel your respect and caring. You created an incredible character.”

“Thanks.”

“No, listen – I know that’s a character, not you. And your music - it’s so amazing. I might know Eliot from watching the show over and over, but what I know of you I’ve learned from your music over the years and watching the interviews and in the last few hours. And I like it a lot, by the way.”

“No. You don’t know me.” He pulled away and sat forward, looking at the fire with his elbows propped on his knees. “I’m . . . I’m not always a nice guy.”

“You don’t have to be. Who is left to judge? You don’t have to apologize for who you are,” she said, reaching over to twine her fingers in his. But even as she spoke, she realized that she didn’t believe him. He was a good ol’ boy, rough around the edges, he liked to drink and party, but with a heart of gold and he watched out for everyone around him. She studied his profile, and felt a chill when he turned to meet her gaze, his eyes distant. He softened to a smile, his eyes warm again.

“I guess that’s true,” he said quietly.

The chill remained for a moment even through the heat of him as he leaned back and put his arm around her again.

I’d better believe him, she thought. It’s worse than if I didn’t know him – I have a fantasy that could get me hurt. Plus, who knows what happens to someone when they are alone for years. Who knows what happened to me?

“No, you’re right,” she finally said. “I don’t know you, and that might be hard to remember.” He didn’t say anything. “About not wanting to rush - are you worried it will get weird or I’ll get mad, and then you’ll be alone again?”

“Maybe.” His hand tightened in hers. “If we get to where we can’t stand each other, there’s nowhere else to go.”

“Christian, I was married for 17 years. You can get through weird and stay together. But it’s not like that either.” She hesitated as he had, trying to think how to explain.

“Like I said before,” she continued, “I’m not going to expect you to be a certain way. No matter what, you don’t owe me anything just because we’re together. Before the plague or whatever it was, I managed my life for everyone else.

“After I lost everyone, the only thing I have is doing what I want, doing whatever feels good, because nothing means anything anymore. All I have is right now. I decided that if there was anyone else left, I won’t ever again accept conditions or put any on anyone else.”

She sat up and looked at him, but saw that he didn’t understand. “For example, if we meet another woman, and you wanted to be with her, I have no claim on you, no matter what happens between now and then. If you didn’t want to be with me and I was upset, that would not be your problem.

“Or . . .” she rushed on – she’d thought about this a lot and it was so good to share it with someone, “if a man showed up and thought he had anything to say about what I did – He wanted sex and I didn’t, or I should cook for him or act a certain way, or not dance around naked – I would not put up with that shit for one second.

“How many men would show up here and assume . . .” She stopped and took a breath to gather herself. “Look, it’s not just about who cooks, it could get dangerous for me. I’d pack my van and live alone again before I’d live like that, with someone who thought they had a right to my body or my time or anything else, or think they could tell me what I could do or not do.”

She sat up now, face flushed and voice risen. He looked at her, grinning. “You dance around naked?”

She took a breath and leaned back, laughing. “Really? That’s the part you heard? Sure. No one to peep in the windows. Did you catch the rest of it?”

His arm went around her shoulder and she thought it felt like the more natural thing in the world. “Yes, ma’am.”

She leaned her head back against him. “I am sorry if I was pushy. I wouldn’t want that for anyone else any more than I would for me. But if you need some space - ” she stopped to raise his hand to her face, kissing his palm – “I will do the best I can, but it will be hard to keep my hands off you.”

He smiled and cradled her cheek. “No, ma’am, that will not be a problem.”

“I guess we’ll be together as long as we both want to, which I think and hope will be a long time, since I’m really nice and you are amazing.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Not really. Just lucky.”

“Good enough.” She sat up and kissed him. She wondered briefly who this woman was, how she dared to be so bold. He cradled her face as he kissed her back.

“Now,” she said, lifting her head and looking at him, eyes shining. “Will you go to bed with me?”

It felt like he looked into her soul. “Yes, Amanda. I would love to.”

 

She opened the door to the McMansion carefully – as long as you were breaking into houses, you might as well pick nice ones. This one was unlocked, but she had learned how to jimmy most doors over the last few years. Her thoughts were racing as she went through the usual routine for a new building.

What is wrong with me? She thought. To say ‘Will you go to bed with me’ to a man she just met? To Christian Kane? She was already doubting the whole encounter had happened at all. And if it had, it surely wasn’t really him.

As she entered the house she held her camping lantern high and looked around. The only smell was the usual spoiled food. She was still worried about coming across a body, but never had. A few times she had found dead pets, which was heartbreaking enough - a bird in the bottom of a cage or a dog by a door.

The pandemic had lasted over a year, coming in waves and taking about fifteen or twenty percent of the people each time. While news and electricity still lasted it sounded like other countries were hit too. For the first few waves the bodies had been buried by grieving families, and then by panicked governments. By the last wave of the pandemic, there had been not enough people left to bury all the dead.

When she had caught the fever and fallen into a delirium there had been a few other people left alive, although nobody she knew well, and when she woke up, dehydrated and aching, there were none, living or dead. It made it so unreal; it was still hard to believe that everyone was gone.

She went on a quick tour of the house, noting anything she might be able to use, scanning the kitchen cupboards, scooping up the desiccated fruit and remains of moldy bread with dishtowels, throwing it all in the garbage, and setting the garbage can outside. The dogs waited patiently in the doorway.

“OK, boys!” she called. They came tearing into the kitchen to sniff around, accepted some treats she had in her pocket, and went to explore the house and find a couch or bed to curl up on. She found the master bedroom, with the bed made up as if the couple was coming home any second. She grabbed more blankets from other bedrooms, found some candles in the living room and lit them in the bedroom. She turned back the bed, then stopped and made it up again.

Even as she went through the motions, her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking. She hadn’t dreamed the whole thing, had she? She could still smell him on her and her lips were swollen from kissing.

She had put some water on to warm on the last of the coals and went to the van to clean up and change. She laughed when she realized she hesitated over what to wear – she was sure Christian would not care. She threw on a tank top and jacket and pajama pants and went out to the porch. She only waited a few minutes before she saw his flashlight coming from the direction of his truck. He had cleaned up, too, and changed to a T-shirt.

She gasped when she saw he was clean-shaven. “Oh my God. I would have recognized you right away like this. I still can’t believe it.” She could see his full lips now. There were more lines around his eyes and mouth than there were the last time she had seen him, before the pandemic. His hair was wavy and full and long, and she felt a thrill when she thought that, if this was really happening, she had been kissing those lips, and had her hands in his hair.

He came toward her with long steps. He took her face in his hands and kissed her while she wrapped her arms around him. He was firm and warm. She could barely process what she was feeling, just lost in his mouth moving on hers, his tongue, his taste, his hands on her. He finally raised his head and rested his forehead on hers as she tried to catch her breath, still holding him close.

He took a long breath. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

“Me too. I was afraid I’d dreamed the whole thing.” He held her hand as she led him into the bedroom and she was acutely aware of the feel of his fingers twined between hers. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her in the candlelight as she slipped her hands under his shirt.

He trapped her arms against his skin with his. “You’re cold. Let’s get you to bed.” He reached down and threw back the covers. He held her, kissed her and lowered her to the bed, ending up lying beside her. He propped on one elbow and looked down at her, his face serious but his eyes shining.

“Mmm.” She pressed up against him and wrapped her arm around his neck. “That was just as romantic as it looks on TV.”

He laughed as he sat up and pulled the covers up over her, kicked off his boots and jeans and pulled his T-shirt over his head. There was a lump in her throat when she saw his bare torso and the muscles flexing in his back. He turned in time to see her toss her pajama bottoms out of bed. He raised an eyebrow.

She said, “I don’t like to wear pajamas. I feel tangled up.”

“Good to know,” and he was right back next to her, burrowing under the quilts. “That’s a lot of blankets.”

“I get cold.” She couldn’t believe it – his body pressed against hers, warm and firm. He cradled her head and stared deep into her eyes until she felt seen to her core. Her heart pounded in anticipation and he kissed her, a slow kiss, nibbling at her lip, tasting.

“Wow,” he said softly. She could hear that little bit of a growl in his voice. He pulled back a little and looked at her. “This is OK?”

“Oh God yes.” She shivered as he pressed his body against hers, his legs and arms seeking out the cold spots and warming her up. She burrowed her face in his neck, kissing him as he ran his hand over her back.

She pulled back a little to look at him again in the candlelight and his blue eyes were more intense and his smile sweeter than you could ever tell on TV. She could not get enough of touching him, over his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles in his back, down to his hips. He put a few inches between them and was looking at her again, searching her face. She felt a flicker of doubt.

“Is this OK for you?” she asked.

“Oh fuck yeah.” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, then looked at her again. “This is so OK. I just can’t believe it.”

Her leg had ended up curled over his. He reached down and wrapped his hand around the back of her thigh, running his hand up over her buttocks, pulling her even more firmly against him. She gasped at the hardness and heat and the dream-like sense of what was happening deepened.

She had been married for 17 years and alone for three, and now suddenly she was in bed with her body pressed up against this gorgeous man who was Christian Kane? His hand continued up and got caught in her tank top.

“Wait – just . .” She half sat up and his arm fell away as she fumbled with the hem of her shirt and pulled it off over her head.

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Oh, lordy, it’s been a while. God, you’re beautiful.”

He pulled her down again and he nuzzled her, kissing her neck while his hands cupped her breasts, stroking and teasing, running his hands down over her body, then up to cradle her face as his kissed her. He trailed fire with his touch and she could barely catch her breath. He kissed his way from her lips to her neck and down to her breasts, and she moaned as his mouth found her nipple.

He wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his back and she settled in on his chest. His breathing was ragged and he was trembling. She was shaking, too, every sense filled with the scent and feel and sight of him.

She took a deep, uneven breath. “Are you OK?” she asked.

“I will be, darlin’. Gimme a minute.”

She rested her face on his chest. Somehow, Christian Kane was trembling in her arms, from her touches. She got up on an elbow and looked at him and he looked back into her eyes. She reached up and stroked his face, brushing his hair back and studying him. His eyes were so blue and his lips so full, and she had imagined and fantasized about this moment so often.

“How is this happening?” she asked. She laid her hand on his chest, feeling the warmth and firmness of him.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. He laid his hand over hers, with the softness of his palm and callouses on his fingers. She leaned forward and kissed his lips, and he accepted and returned, not pushing or demanding, but meeting her exactly where she was.

“I can’t believe this,” she murmured. She kissed down his jaw and neck and he turned his head a little to accommodate her. She lifted herself up to press her body against him and rain nibbling kisses on his soft skin at his pulse on the side of his neck, right above his collarbone.

“This is one of my favorite spots,” she said against his skin. His pulse was under her lips as she nibbled on him. He groaned as she buried her face in his neck to breathe in his scent and trail more kisses down his chest.

He wrapped an arm around her and gently rolled her to her back, looking down at her and smiling until again she was lost in his eyes.

“You mean this spot right here?” He did as she had, kissed her face and neck and ended up at the pulse point, kissing, tickling with his tongue, and a gentle nibble that felt like an electric current. Her breath caught over and over, little gasps as he teased her.

He stopped for a second – she was shaking and almost hyperventilating. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Mmmm . . . yeah. I just really, really like that spot.” He grinned and he kissed her again, nibbling at the tender spot on her neck, moving his lips down to her collarbone and back up, stopping to suck briefly or nibble.

He held her as her body shuddered and her fingers wrapped in his hair, quivering in response to his lips and touch, and she groaned and her hips began moving against him. He ran his hand over her back and down over her buttocks, pulling her close, and she felt his urgency as well.

“I’m about to come just from you kissing my neck,” she said between moans. He startled and started to pull back and she gasped, “Don’t stop.”

She was beginning to buck against him and her hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer at the building urgency in her body. His hand traveled over her hip and up to her breast, cupping it and teasing the nipple with his thumb. She arched as it sent an electric shock through her.

“Touch me, please,” she moaned and grabbed his hand and brought it down between her legs. The pressure of his hand was against her, the warmth and movement of his fingers through the wet panties, and then she exploded. Her body went rigid and a hot blush rose across her chest and face. She gave a low, guttural cry and collapsed against him and buried her face in his shoulder, shaking as if sobbing. He held on to her through long shudders. His heart was racing as fast as hers.

“Holy . .” She couldn’t even finish the thought, she could barely think at all. Finally her body eased and the aftershocks slowed as his strong,warm arms cradled her against his chest.

 

Christian’s heart was still pounding and there was a tightness in his chest. This was the last thing he had expected to find, someone who would ask him to bed and then explode in his arms just from his kisses and touches.

“Oh my God. I can’t move,” she said softly, after the last of the aftershocks. She moved her head enough to look up at him. “Wow.”

He was trying to hide his wide grin, but felt it soften as he gazed into her eyes. “Wow is right, sweetheart. Wow. That was like riding a tornado. Are you OK?”

“I am . . .wonderful. It’s just - it’s been so long.”

She buried her face in his shoulder again. He turned her chin with his finger so she would look up at him.

“That was beautiful. You are beautiful,” he said softly.

She smiled as she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and cuddled against him. He gazed at her as the blush gradually faded from her body and her breathing evened.

Is this real? he thought. He closed his eyes to focus on the feel of her skin pressed against every inch of him. He could hear her breathing gradually growing calmer, he could smell a woman’s body and sex, and she was warm and damp with sweat from the orgasm he had given her. Just now. A couple hours after meeting her.

He opened his eyes and looked at her cuddled against his chest. This felt so real, but his mind couldn’t make sense of how this could be. Finally she looked up and he was gazing into her blue eyes, wide with wonder.

“Wow,” she said again. “What did you do to me?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Darlin’, I was along for the ride.” He reached up and stroked her hair back from her face, cupping her cheek. “I sure am glad I could help, though.”

She rolled to her back and stretched like a cat, with the most content smile he ever saw in his life. She pressed against every inch of his body as she flexed. Then she relaxed, her soft warmth molded against him.

“That was amazing,” she said. “I . . . wow.”

He half propped on an elbow and just looked at her. He slipped an arm over her, letting his hand spread on her stomach. He felt compelled to look at her, touch her, to keep her real. Her eyes were warm, her features soft. She seemed content to just let his gaze rest on her. Finally he lay down again, one arm around her shoulder and the other hand behind his head.

“That was amazing,” she said again.

“I’m glad.” His grin widened. “You know, darlin’, I imagined a lot of scenarios if I ever found any other people. This . . . wasn’t one I thought I could expect.” He saw a blush rise on her cheeks, but she held his gaze, not looking away. “I’m really glad, though,” he whispered, his voice husky.

“Me too. I still can’t believe it.” She hesitated. “You’re being awfully patient.”

It took him a second to figure out what she meant. Oh - of course he wanted her. But somehow that had been so unexpected, and amazing, her exploding under his touch like that.

“I figure we’ve got time, I’d give you a chance to recover.” He couldn’t help again his wide self-satisfied grin. “And . . . that was actually pretty satisfying.”

 

Amanda saw the smile that lit up his face soften to a little grin as he gazed at her. She had seen this expression, soft and focused, many times in his love scenes on TV and in movies. She felt like she had never been seen like this before. His hand trailed up and down her arm and his legs were pressed against hers. She felt shivers everywhere he touched her.

She couldn’t believe what had just happened. A part of her wanted to be embarrassed or ashamed of losing control like that, but it had been so amazing after so long, and he seemed so pleased.

She sat up and his eyes went to her breasts. She ran her hand over his shoulder and chest, down over his toned stomach. How was he this fit? Her mouth was dry but she felt alive, buzzing as if a current was coursing through her. She peeled off the soaking wet panties and threw them aside, pushed back the covers and swung over to sit astride him.

He groaned and instantly hardened again under her. She kissed him, again just lost in feeling his mouth against hers, her teasing with her tongue this time while his hands ranged over her body, stroking her hips and traveling up to cup her breasts. Her body was still sensitive and she gasped against his mouth as his hands explored her.

She started kissing her way down his body. She wanted to see and touch every part of him, to reassure herself this was real. She tasted the sweat on his skin and felt his pulse speed up under her touch. She kissed his flat stomach and heard a hiss of breath as she got lower.

She caught the elastic of his underwear and continued kissing as she slid it down over his hips and down his legs and off. She looked up – his head was back, his body quivering like a taut bow. She kissed his stomach as she laid her hand on his cock, and she caught her breath to feel it jump at her touch and to hear him gasp.

It’s been so long, she thought, more a feeling than a coherent thought.

“I can’t believe this.” His voice was so rough and low it raised shivers.

She hesitated. What am I doing? she thought.

“Do you want me to stop?” she whispered.

“Fuck no!” He reached down to lay his hand on her arm. She caught her breath and wrapped her hand around him, silken soft skin around rock-hard granite.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” She could hear his voice, feel the quivering through his body. She still couldn’t believe this was happening, but if it wasn’t she didn’t want to wake up from the best dream she had ever had.

She leaned down and kissed the head and the shaft, hearing his moans get deeper. She felt bold, as if in control of the universe, and took him in her mouth. She heard a guttural cry, without words, and his body trembled.

It’s been so long, she thought again. She moaned, both from pleasure and because she knew he would be able to feel the vibrations in her throat, and she moved on him, following his lead.

She heard his voice, low and shaking, say, “Oh my God, I can’t believe it.” He tasted so good and again every sense was filled and  
overwhelmed with him. The pace grew frantic, and now she had almost all of him in her mouth and he had one hand on her head.

“Stop - ” She could barely make out his rough exclamation but stopped right away. His hands were on her, pulling her up even with him, and she was on her back, his weight on her. His leg went between hers, pushing them apart, and she felt him hot and hard.

He stopped for an instant, staring at her with an intensity she never saw on TV. She said, gasping, “Yes,” and spread her legs under him. He was moving inside her then and she felt every bit as his body slid into her. He was huge and it was so tight but she was so wet, he was filling her up. Her head went back, his hands were in her hair and his face buried in her neck.

His weight contained her, his thrusts made her feel she was about to spin off into the universe. He quivered, moaned and exploded, and she was lost in sensation and sent over the edge again.

She held him as he recovered, gasping and covered in sweat, still breathing hard herself. After a few minutes he groaned and slid sideways, relieving her of some of his weight. She cradled his head against her chest, stroking his hair and kissing him as he took another big shuddering breath. “That was amazing,” she whispered.

He started a chuckle that turned into a groan. “That was my line.” He lifted his head and looked at her with an intensity that almost burned, a question in his eyes.

“That was wonderful,” she said. He nodded and rested his head on her chest again, nuzzling against her. “How are you?”

“I’m wonderful too. That was . . .” he trailed off, and his body become heavier as he drifted off.

She grinned and held him close.

No more needed to be said.

 

It was barely light when Christian awoke. Where . . . he looked around - in a bed, in a house. He didn’t recognize it - then it came rushing back. He turned and he could barely see her in the dim light, a human, a woman, Amanda, next to him, her bare back to him.  
He held his breath, wondering if his eyes, and memory, were playing tricks on him.

He lifted the covers and scooted up against her, carefully. She was here, she was real, and her breathing was deep and even. They were both naked and he was pressed up against her. He put one arm under his head and the other along his side - he didn’t want to chance waking her up by wrapping it around her.

He lay there feeling her against him, warm and firm and real, and kissed her shoulder. She stirred so he lay perfectly still until she settled.

How? he thought. Where did she come from? Where had she been all this time? When he had followed the fireworks, he was thinking he was finally cracking up and hallucinating. When he pulled into the light of the fire and saw her standing there, he had been sure of it.

But she stayed real as he approached and when he took her hand. As soon as he saw it was a woman all he could think about was taking her to bed, but she seemed as fragile as a soap bubble to him, like she would disappear if he made one wrong move.

And he knew he could not take one more day alone, even if he never got to lay a hand on her.

He saw the loneliness in her, as well; he couldn’t imagine being totally alone for the whole time. He wouldn’t have survived if he hadn’t met Carson and had his company for that year.

And then, the desire he saw in her and how she moved closer and was touching him when she realized who he was - he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He felt some shame over that - he had done nothing to deserve that. She trusted him, just like that, because of his name. And if he messed this up, if she got sick of him or angry with him, he didn’t think he could stand it.

I know I can’t, he thought.

He grit his teeth. And how am I not going to fuck this up? I tried, he thought. I tried not to kiss her, I tried not to take her to bed. The pain in her eyes when she thought he was rejecting her - his chest tightened at the thought.

It was hard to stay still with her warm body pressed against him. Her speech about how he didn’t owe her anything, and then she asked him to bed. How she had climaxed under his hand, and how she looked at him after. That look, as if he was looking into her soul and he was the center of the universe.

Fuck, he thought. How am I not going to ruin this? When she realizes how fucked up I am, and that was before four years of insanity.

And the next thing that happens is she sucks his cock? What the hell? He started to get hard at the thought. When he came back to himself and realized he had been inside her, he had fucked her, he panicked, worried he had pushed too far, and then he saw her eyes. Again, looking at him as if he had given her the greatest gift in the world.

He took a deep, slow breath. She is here now, he thought. He was aware of every spot they touched and images from the night before flashed through his mind.

You can do this, he thought, but could not help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

 

Amanda woke gradually. There was a pleasant ache throughout her body, a deep satisfaction to her core, and heat like a radiator against her back. She didn’t move at first – was she dreaming last night? Was she dreaming now?

There was a warmth and strength and softness against her – if she moved, if she woke up, it would disappear. She thought about Christian Kane coming out of the darkness to her, like a knight to her summons. She thought of drowning in his blue eyes, his melting grin, his steely intensity, his burning touches, feeling his body hard against her and in her.

How could that have happened? I must have dreamed it, she thought. There is no universe where it makes sense that the one man she would have wished into existence walked out of the darkness and into her arms. Tears welled up, but she became more fully awake and realized the warmth against her back was real.

She blinked, and cautiously moved her head. There was daylight coming through the blinds over the bed. The warmth against her back shifted, an arm came across her stomach, and there was a kiss on her neck.

“Good morning, Amanda. Did you sleep well?” The familiar gravelly voice gave her shivers.

She turned around in his arms, and those blue eyes were looking into her and he was smiling. “You’re real,” she said softly.

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Most days.”

“I thought I must have dreamed it,” she said. “I couldn’t believe it really happened.”

“Me, too.” He kissed her gently and thoroughly, and he was solid and warm and real, his mouth soft on hers.

“I have to tell you,” he said, “that blew my mind last night. I do not even know what to say. You are amazing.”

She ducked her head and blushed. “I don’t know how I had the nerve to be all over you like that. I wasn’t like that before.”

“I’m glad you were,” he said softly.

They lay there, kissing gently. He ran his hands over her body, as she did to him.

He can’t stop touching me any more than I can him, she thought. They needed few words, but he was so responsive to her – as his touches aroused her he met her step by step as they made love again.


	2. Chapter 2 - How Did You Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is the only circumstance in which an ordinary Kaniac could have Christian Kane all to herself?
> 
> I do not own Christian Kane, his music, or the names of his characters or shows. Clearly, I wish I did.

By mid-morning he lay back on the bed with one arm around her and she rested with her head on his shoulder. 

“I still can’t believe this - how is this happening?” she asked. 

“I’m not sure myself, sweetheart.” He looked over and gently stroked her cheek. “I’m glad, though.” 

“Mmm.” She nestled into his hand. “I’m so cozy – I don’t want to get up.” 

“No reason to.” He ran his fingers down her arm. 

“We should get up and get something to eat soon,” she said. 

“I guess.” 

She spread her palm on his chest. She felt a thrill at the sensation of his body against her. “Christian, how did you . .” she hesitated. “How did you make it? I wondered, if anyone else survived, how they didn’t go crazy. I thought anyone else who was still alone would have killed themselves after a year or so. How did you do it?” 

He turned on his side, pulled her close and buried his head in her neck. Every inch of their bare skin was pressed together. She felt him shudder as she cradled his head and kissed his neck and shoulder. 

“I almost didn’t.” He leaned his head back on the bed but did not let go. “I just lost so many people. I think I went fucking crazy at first. I kept thinking there must be someone left. After I met Carson and then found those camps a few times, I knew there must be more people left. I couldn’t give up. But . . .” 

He was quiet a moment. “They’re all gone. Nobody’s left. I came back here a couple months ago and started drinking a hell of a lot and tried to figure out if there was any reason to keep going.” 

“What did you think when you saw the fireworks?” she asked.

“I thought I was imagining it,” he said. “Or I was still drunk off my ass. Once I realized what it was, I jumped in the truck and started driving, and then they stopped. I never felt panic like that. I started honking the horn and hoped I was close enough.”

“I thought I imagined it, but the dogs heard it and started barking.” She paused. “That was close.” 

“Yeah, that was a long shot.” He kissed her temple and leaned back. “What about you? How did you make it?” 

She said, “I drove around looking for about six months. I put signs up everywhere, and checked grocery stores. But I didn’t have anyone to look for. My dad and husband were gone in the first wave, and my kids right after that. They died two weeks apart in the second wave. My brother and sisters were out of town, but I lost touch before the electricity and the net went down.

“After I woke up, I drove to all my friends’ houses. My sisters were close enough to go check, in Detroit and Akron. I left signs on people’s doors and checked back – but it didn’t seem worth it to keep looking.” 

She paused, and he rolled back over to hold her close. She took a breath and let it soak in, the feel of him against her. “I realized that nothing I did made any difference. It’s important to me to make a difference. I recycled bags and picked up trash and bought organic and I was a teacher. And now nothing mattered. I could burn down a house a day for the rest of my life and it didn’t matter. I just . . . it made it hard to do anything. I could find some painless way to kill myself, but what was the rush, I could always do it tomorrow.” 

She pulled back to look at him. “The only thing I had is that I could still have senses, I can still enjoy things I taste or feel. So I just keep myself busy and do what I feel like doing. I entertain and distract myself and I don’t let myself think about it. I sorta pretend it didn’t happen sometimes.” She hesitated. “Sometimes I think I’m dreaming and this isn’t really happening. I mean, really, what’s more likely, eight billion people disappeared off the planet, or I’m hallucinating in a coma?” 

“I don’t know,” he said. “This seems awful real.” 

“Oh, I know. But sometimes I think that, so I can get through another day.” 

“Yeah.” He reached up and touched her cheek and ran his hand down over her shoulder. He saw her shiver and he pulled the cover up. “So, what’s next?” 

“Well, I have a really nice set up in Cincinnati, but I was just marking time and getting through the days,” she said. “And I have had enough of being alone for the rest of my life. So I would like to be wherever you are, if that is alright with you.” 

“Cincinnati?” he asked. “That’s right by Kentucky, right? I thought you said northern Ohio?” 

“I lied. I didn’t know what to expect, or what you were like, or . . . I needed an out in case it wasn’t safe.” 

“Huh. Well, anyway, that works for me. I would love to stay together, but I don’t know where I’m headed. I was about at the end of my rope.” 

“Then let’s go up to my place and we’ll figure it out from there.” she said. “Once we get settled I’ll set up the hot tub.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Hot tub?”

She smiled. “I told you, I spent three years keeping myself comfortable and entertained. I am hooked up!” 

 

Amanda could not stop looking at him and reaching out to touch him at every opportunity as they got going and got something to eat. She still wasn’t completely convinced this was real. It was so weirdly normal - they heated up the soup for breakfast and he helped her pack up the few things she had out by the fire just as if this was some kind of ordinary campout. She felt his eyes on her, though, and she was exquisitely aware of every time he was near her or his hand brushed against hers or rested on her back. 

They decided to stop by Christian’s house first so he could pack some stuff up before they headed north. He stood by the truck, ready to go, and watched as she brought a box of canned goods, candles, some flashlights, and a few pieces of clothing out of the house, pulled the door shut and wrote the year on it in chalk. 

“What’s that for?” he asked. 

“If I ever come back by here, I’ll know I’ve been in this one already.” He pointed at the box and raised an eyebrow. “Oh – I always check if there’s something I might need. Saves time scrounging later.” 

“You’ve got it all figured out.” 

She shrugged. “I came up with a system. What else is there to do?” 

She followed his truck to his house, about five miles from where she had been.

It is so strange, she thought, to see another moving vehicle. He happened to have been out by his truck when the fireworks went off – if he had been inside he probably would not have seen them. Her blood run cold at the thought, at how easily they could have missed each other. 

The house was nice but modest, not what some TV stars might have. She let the dogs out to check out the neighborhood and followed him to the door. He hesitated on the steps, and she could see the tension in his broad shoulders. 

“Are you OK?” she asked.

He brushed his hair back, and finally turned to look at her. “I’ve been living by myself for a long time.” 

“Yeah . . .” she said. He looked away. 

“So it’s a mess?” she asked. “Christian, I don’t care.” 

“It’s a little more than a mess.” 

“Okay . . .” 

Still he hesitated, finally said, “Fuck it,” slammed open the door, and led the way in. She followed him into the great room in the front of the house. He turned on a big flashlight and faced her, chin raised and eyes narrowed, as if daring her to say anything. Her pulse was racing as she walked to the one clear spot on the end of a sofa and sat down. 

She pointed at the big picture window and said, “You have a really nice view.” He stared at her for another moment and then disappeared down the hall. 

She took a deep breath and looked around again in the light from the flashlight and the big window, taking in more detail. In addition to the trash and clutter she expected, the room reeked of alcohol. It took a second to figure out that the glittering piles by the wall in several places were whiskey or wine bottles that had been thrown and shattered. 

It looked like holes had been punched in the paneling. A large wooden piece of furniture, a china cabinet perhaps, had been – shot, maybe? The inside looked shredded by a woodchipper and the doors were splintered and hanging by a hinge. A painting on the wall was slashed. A table was overturned, and chairs shattered against the wall. Vases and dishes were smashed and scattered throughout the room. The large picture window was intact, but a window on the other wall was broken out. 

She felt a shiver of fear. She wasn’t sure how to reconcile this destruction with a man who was so sensitive and responsive that so far he could hardly touch her without stopping to make sure she was OK. 

She could hear him moving down the hall and took the flashlight and went to find him. Through an arch to what looked like the master suite she found him pulling stuff out of a closet. There was clutter everywhere, but this room wasn’t destroyed like the living room. He stopped when she came in and pushed his hair back as he looked up at her. 

“Hey. You OK?” she asked. 

His face was set and his eyes narrow. His angry expression was so different from the soft warmth or passion she had seen up to now that she had to stop herself from taking an instinctive step back. 

“You got nothing to say about that?” he asked, his voice rough. 

She shrugged. “I dunno. What did you expect me to say?”

He glared at her, grabbed some clothes and books off the floor, and threw them toward the closet. “Who does that?” he growled, pointing toward the living room. “Who destroys their own home?” 

She shrugged again but was surprised at the wave of relief that washed over her. If it bothered him so much it didn’t seem likely he would turn his anger on her. 

“Well, why not?” she said. 

He stared at her.  _ “What?” _

“Why not? Who cares? What difference does it make? Go move into George Strait’s house if this one’s messed up.” 

She jumped when he suddenly turned and threw the book in his hand at the wall as hard as he could. “No,” he said. “This is fucked up. You can’t live like that.” 

“Sure you can.” She crossed her arms. “What. Difference. Does. It. Make?” He just turned away and slammed a drawer shut on the dresser, setting it to rock. 

“The world ended, and it forgot us,” she continued. “You get drunk and smash furniture. I curl up and cry for days at a time, and then pretend my family is on vacation. What should we be doing? Making birdhouses?” 

She realized she was shaking, and her jaw was tight. “Nothing matters. I used to bring my bags to the store. Save those six plastic bags. Now I could go burn down a whole goddamn grocery store. It wouldn’t matter at all. It would impact no one and nothing. Why is that, Christian?” she yelled. “Why are we here?” 

He had stopped to look at her. His face was pale and his anger seemed to drain as hers grew. “I don’t know.” 

“That’s because there is no reason. Not one reason I’m alive and everyone I know is dead. You think I’m going to judge you for smashing bottles? I don’t know how I can help you understand how deeply I don’t care.” She took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes. 

“Now, if you hurt  _ me –“ _ she kept talking over his protest – “I am gone and you will never see me again. If you smash up stuff I am using, we’ll have a talk about that. Otherwise - ” she looked around and saw a small blue lamp on a dresser. She stalked over, yanked the cord out of the wall, and threw it as hard as she could against the wall. It shattered very satisfactorily. “Fuck it.” 

She walked from the room. She thought about leaving the house, getting in the van and taking off, but the thought of being alone again tightened her chest with panic. If he came after her, though, with that anger, she would have to find the strength to leave. By the time she got to the living room she had calmed down and decided to wait and see what happened. She sat on the couch with her arms crossed. 

Christian came out two or three minutes later, shoved some junk to the ground and sat next to her. He sat silently for a second and then nudged her with his shoulder. “You OK?”

“I am just peachy,” she said, her voice cool. 

He paused again. “It’s just – I scare myself when I get like this.” He indicated the room. “I was afraid it would scare you off.” 

“Were you trying to scare me off?” 

“No.” He paused. “I don’t think so.” 

“I don’t like thinking about it,” she said. “It doesn’t do any good. And now you’ve got me all riled up.” 

He was quiet a moment. “I was afraid I would come out and you’d be gone.” His voice was low and soft. 

“I thought about it for a second.” 

He carefully reached over and took her hand. “I would never hurt you.” 

She let him take her hand, but shrugged. “You will or you won’t. We’ll each make our own choices.” 

He became very still, then pulled his hand free and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. She couldn’t see his face, but his head was down and his shoulders slumped. She felt a sudden tightness in her chest. All he’d been afraid of since he walked out of the darkness was scaring her off and being alone again, and here he thought he’d done it. She looked around the room again, and thought of the pain on his face when he yelled at her. 

I need to be ready, she thought, if that anger comes at me. 

She took a breath. “Hey, Christian. I don’t think you would hurt me.” He didn’t move. “Do you remember the story you tell about your song  _ Mary Will You Come Outside _ ? You said the couple next door to you was fighting, and the guy was beating the girl up.” 

He raised his head and sat back. “Yeah, I remember.” 

“You said you went next door and politely knocked on the door, and then politely beat the shit out of that guy,” she said. 

“Yeah. He was an ass.” 

She took his arm in hers. “You get mad, but I think you use your powers for good.” She laughed. “One time a guy bothered you when you are on the phone. You gave a nice statement, you kept asking him politely to back off, and he wouldn’t. So you picked up a rock and threw it and broke his camera. ” 

“I don’t remember. Where was that?”

“One of the behind the scenes videos of  _ Leverage _ ,” she said. “It was very Eliot.” 

He finally put his arm around her and she happily snuggled in next to him into the spot that was beginning to feel so familiar already. 

“Christian, this is probably stupid on my part, but I do trust you. I keep trying to remind myself that I don’t know you and to keep my guard up, but to be honest I’m not having much luck. I feel really safe with you.”

He rested his head on hers. “I’m glad.” 

“Last night would not have happened with anyone else. I still can’t believe I was like that. I had thought about it a lot - I was going to establish some boundaries before any guy touched me. And I was ready to leave if I didn’t feel safe.” 

He was quiet. “Why was it different with me?” he finally asked. 

“Well, for one thing, I wasn’t sure I wasn’t dreaming. When my celebrity crush walks out of the night . . . And I do feel like I know you, even though I know better.” 

It felt like he had moved away, even though he was still sitting right next to her. He gave a deep, measured sigh. “You don’t really know me, Amanda.”

“I know that,” she said, tapping her head, “but it doesn’t feel like it,” and she laid her hand on her heart. 

He swallowed so hard she could hear it, sitting next to him, and she looked up to see him looking into the distance, pain etched around his eyes, before he turned to her again with a softened gaze. “You aren’t too sure about men in general, huh?” 

“No, I love men! But I bet I’ve thought about this more than you have. Imagine the guy who yells ‘Hey, baby, smile!’ at me on the street, and when I ignore him he yells, ‘Fine, BITCH! You think you’re too good?’ He already thinks he has a right to tell me what to do and get mad if I don’t do what he wants, and that’s in public. What happens when all rules are off?”

He shook his head. “I dunno. But that’s not most men.” 

“I don’t know about that. I’m not saying it is, but I really don’t know. What are most men like when all the rules are off?” He just shook his head. 

“Ok.” She reached over took his hand. She still felt a thrill at the simple human contact, not to mention that she was sitting here holding Christian Kane’s hand. “Here’s what I think I know about you. You really enjoy and respect women. In every interview you are polite and so appreciative of every opportunity you’ve had and you appreciate your fans, and in your concerts you cuss and holler and you look like you are having a blast. 

“You love your family and you drink a lot. Your parents met in the rodeo, your dad was in the oil business, and you moved a lot before high school. You were in college for - what, art? I forget. No, art history. You dropped out and took off for L.A. as soon as you could.

“You love cooking and food and wine, and you love partying with your buddies. You love wolves and you were upset that - Portland, I think? had laws against having wolf hybrids. You do your own stunts and fights. Your music is based on experiences in your life. Your co-workers were like family. I read about you showing up drunk at your own concerts, but not one story of domestic violence.” 

And I think you’ve been hurt, she thought. So many of his songs were about finally finding someone, or losing someone. You don’t know how to be alone, but you don’t know how to stay with someone, either. 

“Well, that part’s true,” he said. 

“Doing concerts drunk or not beating up women?” she asked. 

“I don’t hit women.” He grinned. “There’s a fair amount of drinking that goes on backstage.” 

“The perks of being a country rock star.” 

He shook his head and she was glad to see the grin, the little half smile that again looked so familiar. “So you know all that about me how?” 

“I may have spent a few hours on Youtube watching every video and reading every article and interview I could find about you. And us Kaniacs kept each other updated.” 

He shook his head. “Ya’ll are crazy.” He turned to look at her. “And I don’t hardly know anything about you. That seems a little unfair.” 

She hesitated. “It’s hard. I’ve put it out of my mind so I don’t go insane. I get upset when I think about life before, so I just don’t.” She met his gaze. “It’s not that exciting at all, but I will tell you all about my life before. As soon as I can.” He nodded, then returned her gaze as his grin faded. 

He leaned forward an inch at a time and kissed her, soft and searching, teasing and tasting. There was that little shock of the first touch of his mouth on hers, so much sensation after so long of no contact at all. One odd thought popped into her head - I never kissed this much even when I was married. 

His hand slipped behind her head and he kissed her with a little more firmness, not much, just enough that she would follow the lead of his tongue and tease back. He kissed the side of her mouth, then back to capture her lip. 

She had seen him in kisses like this in his romantic comedies and a few episodes of  _ Leverage _ and she had pictured herself here, but there was no way to imagine the feel and taste of him, the warmth and pressure of his hands, his hair soft and wild against her skin, his eyes intense when he pulled back, breathing hard, to look at her before moving forward again.    


She was somehow leaning back and he was above her with her hands in his hair. Her breath was coming in gasps and the kisses were more urgent. She fumbled with his buttons and pulled at his shirt; whatever part of her brain that was still incredulous that she was with Christian Kane was swept away, for the moment, at least. All she wanted was to touch him. 

With his free hand he undid the buttons and shrugged out of his shirt without ever breaking contact. She moaned and clung to his broad shoulders and his kisses grew deeper, tasting and exploring. He shifted his weight and slid his hand under her shirt and his palm was broad and warm as it traveled up her back. 

There was a crash and they both startled – she looked over to see that some empty soup cans and a whiskey bottle had been dislodged from the couch and slid to the ground. 

Christian sat up and looked around at the trashed room, breathing hard. 

“Come here,” he said as he stood and reached for her hand. He pulled her back down the hallway to his bedroom. They tumbled into bed, kissing, and he rolled them over until he was looking down at her, smiling, searching her eyes, and gently brushing her hair back. She shivered as his fingers caressed her skin. The sheets smelled of him and whiskey. 

She stroked his face, tracing over his rough stubble and soft lips before cradling his cheek. Her eyes were shining as she parted her lips to accept his kiss. He teased her again, their lips barely touching, the lightest whisper, barely tasting her and gradually increasing intensity until she whimpered and quivered in his arms. 

He slid down and kissed up her stomach as he slid her T-shirt up. She moaned and arched her back and lifted her arms as he pulled it off and tossed it out of the way. He lay down again and kissed her, her mouth, her neck, working his way down. He was trailing fire with his hands on her waist and then her hips as he kissed and nibbled, hooking his fingers in her yoga pants and panties and sliding them down. She gasped and he looked up, concerned, but grinned as she lifted her hips and grabbed at his shoulders.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, yes . . .” She didn’t want him to stop and check if she was OK, she didn’t want him to ever stop. Every sense was filled and overwhelmed, her skin sensitive to every touch, the pressure and warmth of him. She could hear his hard breathing, his movements over her, his moans and her own heart pounding. The smell of him, woodsmoke and whiskey and unwashed male surrounded her. For these few minutes the world disappeared, the pain and loneliness was gone, the universe and every sensation in it was her body. 

Her pants were gone and he kissed her thighs, running his hands over her hips and waist, back up to her breasts. His touch was so firm and his hands were so broad it was as if he was molding her, creating and defining her. She could feel where she was in space, every edge of her minutely defined as his hands and mouth trailed fire. 

He sat up suddenly and she moaned and reached for him but he only kicked off his boots and jeans and then he was right back with her. She moaned long and low in her throat when his naked body pressed along every inch of hers. She moved against him as she grabbed his head and kissed him hard, devouring him. He groaned in pleasure and met her, reflecting her passion with his own. 

She rolled with him, still kissing, until she was on top. She let her whole body support itself on him, aware of every inch as she moved against him. She moved up until her breasts were close to his face. He moaned, almost a growl, cupping them, feeling their weight, sucking on her nipples as if starving. She felt a quiver deep inside as she braced herself over him and let him taste and feel and suck and nibble on her.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he growled between filling his mouth with her breasts, one after the other. Her breath was coming fast and the universe contracted to the point where his mouth was on her and the growing pressure between her legs. She sat up, moving forward until his cock rested right up against her, she felt the pressure of him against her and she knew he could feel how wet and hot and tight she was. 

She leaned down, hands next to his head, his hands on her hips, both of them flushed and breathing hard. She was barely moving back and forth and he was a taut wire, coiled, waiting to see what she would do. Watching his face she moved down, gasping and arching her back. She held still, trembling, before moving again, feeling a quake through her body every time he filled her up. She ran her hands over his chest and he held her hips, guiding her faster and faster. The sweat beaded on his face and his jaw clenched. 

She leaned forward to brace herself against his thrusts, feeling her own climax build as she watched him, his head back, the flush over his face and the cry torn from his throat as he held her still for the final thrust and went slack, quivering and covered with sweat. She was breathing hard from watching his pleasure, on the edge, and moved on him a few more times before exploding herself, arching her back, clawing at his chest, with a high keening cry she hardly recognized as coming from her. She finally collapsed on him and they lay together, still connected. 

He wrapped his arms around her, but she couldn’t have moved if her life had depended on it. 

“Oh my God, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear. 

Her body quivered from an aftershock and she gasped and heard him catch his breath as she contracted around him. She didn’t know how much time passed before she finally was back in control and could slide off of him onto the bed. He held her close and she clung to him. 

They lay there looking at each other, inches apart. She reached up and caressed his face. “What do you do to me?” she asked in wonder. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” He looked into her eyes, kissed her gently, again, and again, just connecting, touching. She smiled, contented, and he kissed her nose. She nuzzled against him and shivered as her sweat evaporated. He sat up, snagged a blanket and lay down again, cuddling up with one more lingering kiss. 

“I love your kisses.” She ran her hand over his chest, down over his stomach and up to caress his neck. Even as sated as she was, she couldn’t stop touching him. “Every time you kiss me it makes me insane.” 

“Well, darlin’,” he got up on one elbow to look at her, “I noticed . .” he reached up and touched her face, caressing her cheek and her neck, “That you like being kissed like this,” and he leaned over and brushed her lips with his, soft and giving, teasing with his tongue. He was not just pushing and grinding but exploring, giving and taking, responding and leading. Her head went back and her mouth opened, and she invited him in, her tongue teasing his, tasting him. 

“Then you like to tease a little bit . .” He kissed her again but soft, barely touching, and when she moaned and reached for him he backed off to maintain the electric, light touch. Her breath was coming in gasps against his mouth, and he relented and kissed her deeper, again exploring, responding and giving. His tongue teased against hers and his teeth caught her lip for just a moment, sending shivers down her spine. 

She grabbed his head and kissed him hard, devouring him, and her hips started to move against him. He raised his head, and she looked up with a flushed face to see his laughing eyes and that grin. 

“And then you get serious.” He grinned at her, kissed her on the forehead, and settled back on the bed next to her. 

She was still breathing hard and was wet and aroused again. “You can tell how I like to be kissed?” 

“Well, sure.” Something in her tone had him sit up a little and look at her again. “Was that not right?” 

“Oh my God, no, that was exactly right.” 

“Good.” He settled next to her again, pulling her close and kissing her shoulder. 

“But how did you know?” she asked. “We’ve only been together two days.”

“How would I not know? If I was paying attention at all . . . .You are a pretty demonstrative woman.” 

She laid her head back and nestled against him. The fact was that she had never been kissed like that before. It made her sad in a way she didn’t want to think about. 


	3. Chapter 3 - Why Would You Tell Me That?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's gone, you are the last woman left on Earth, and the man of your dreams walks out of the night. Then what? 
> 
> I don't own Christian Kane or his songs or names of his characters or shows. I don't own kissing or Bass Pro Shops or Trader Joes, either.

Chapter 3

 

She woke up disoriented, half sitting up and looking around the darkened room. It took a second to recall – Christian’s bedroom. Christian! She looked around and there he was, laying with his back to her. She scooted over, cuddled up to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. She wondered how many times she would wake up afraid that the whole thing was a dream.

“Mmmm.” He stirred and put his arm over hers, pulling her close. “You feel good.”

“You too. I’m glad you’re still real.”

It was too late in the day to start for Cincinnati, they decided, but Christian could start sorting out what he wanted to bring and they would leave the next day. After they got something to eat he wandered into the kitchen with a box of clothes while she sorted through the cabinets.

“I don’t need to take much, I guess,” he said. “I’ll pack my guitars in the morning.”

“Ok.” She started to say more and then grinned and turned back to the cupboard.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said.

He lowered his head, raised his eyebrow, and looked at her.

“It’s just that I keep starting to tell you about the house, but I want you to be surprised. I can’t wait for you to see it. Can we take this stuff,” indicating the pile of canned food, mostly soup and stew, “or do you want to leave it here in case you come back?” She tried to sound casual, but her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

“Oh, it don’t matter to me. We can bring it.”

“Once we get settled and I get the garden going we’ll be eating a lot better,” she said.

“The garden?”

“Oh, yeah. It did great last year. I was so sick of canned stuff. I overwintered potatoes and carrots, we’ll see if they survived. And we’ll have lettuce and spinach in few weeks.” She turned around, her arms full of cans, to his big grin.

“That’s great!” He took the cans and put them in the box with his clothes and pulled her close for a kiss - as much kissing as there had been in the two days, it still took her breath away. “What else do you grow?” he asked.

They chatted about the garden as they sorted through cabinets. She opened a cupboard and saw several bottles of different kinds of whiskey and alcohol.

“Oh – that reminds me,” she said. “I don’t have much hard liquor at the place, just wine and amaretto mostly. You might want to bring along your whiskey or whatever you want.”

He stopped and looked at her. “You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?” She shook her head. “You do you. I don’t care. Just letting you know.”

 

The next morning Christian found that there was more to bring with him than he had realized, so they took their time going through the house. She found it interesting to watch him throw his clothes in boxes - she now only wore the most comfortable things she could find, but he seemed to dress pretty much the same way he did before.

Ah, she thought. Maybe he had always worn what was comfortable.

Amanda was thrilled to have a chance to hear about his life as they packed. He didn’t mind talking about it and she got to hear stories about his parents and the rodeo and his dad’s oil business. He talked about his early years with his band Kane and the first shows he had been on, _Fame L.A._ and _Rescue 77._

She especially loved hearing stories about _Leverage_ and _The Librarians,_ since those were the shows she was most familiar with. Almost everything he picked up had a memory attached to it. He enjoyed sharing the stories and reliving the memories as much as she enjoyed hearing them.

“Look.” He held up a canvas with photos of wolves. “The Kaniacs sponsored some wolves at a sanctuary for me, this place up in New York. How fucking cool is that?” He smiled as he looked it over. “That was really somethin’.” He put it aside and pulled the next box out of the closet.

Amanda remembered that. They had collected money and got it set up for his Christmas present, and it was February when they finally heard he had gotten it and loved it. It was so surreal that _that_ Christian, whose every word and picture she hung on, was _this_ Christian, who was smiling at her and reaching out to squeeze her hand, looking at her with those intense blue eyes, sending shivers down her spine.

He finally had everything he wanted stacked by the door and they started taking the cartons out to his truck in the driveway. “What about you? You were a teacher?”

“Yes.”

He waited a second, but she didn’t continue. “Where did you teach?”

“Lots of different places.” She put the box down by the truck.

“And you had two kids of your own, right?”

She turned away. “Yeah. My kids were 9 and 13. I saw them both go. I try not to think about it.” She went in the house for another box, thinking about what she and Christian would get for lunch, wondering what he would think of Cincinnati, trying to think of anything but what had happened to her family over four years ago. She stopped inside the door, took a deep breath, and carried the carton out the door.

She heard him as she stepped back outside. “Wait a minute. I guess you’re not on birth control after living alone for three years?”

No, of course not. Why would I be? What would I even use?” She stepped around the truck and paused at his pale face.

“We haven’t used anything the last three days.” His voice was as rough as she had ever heard it and his expression could have been carved from stone.

“No, it’s OK,” she reassured him. “I can’t have kids.”

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. “You did have kids.”

“We adopted. I can’t get pregnant.” She stepped closer to hand him the next carton, but he stood still, staring at her.

“Why would you tell me that?” His voice was harsh.

“What?” Startled, she put the box on the ground. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Three fucking days, and you just now mention your kids were adopted? It didn’t come up before?” He was a different person, all warmth gone.

“Why would it?” She saw lines of anger on his face she hadn’t noticed before and felt an odd chill. “I don’t like to think about it. I haven’t talked much about my family.”

He pushed the box over the tailgate into the truck. He turned away and then spun back to face her. “I don’t understand what game you’re playing here.”

“Christian, what game?” She took a step back. “What are you talking about?”

She jumped when he slammed his hand on the truck. “So all that talk about being true to yourself and no games and no pushing was bullshit?” he demanded.

“What? I don’t . . .” His anger felt like a tidal wave coming at her.

He turned and gripped the side of the truck with his head down, his knuckles white. She had the sense he was about to bolt - push past her, get in the truck, and take off. Her chest tightened and her throat closed up.

Then she was watching him as if through the wrong end of a telescope. He was far away and blurry, and had very little to do with her. A familiar cold numbness replaced the pressure in her chest. He was still right there - she saw his narrowed eyes and the hard set to his jaw. She heard the echo of his harsh words and his labored breathing. She noted the hurt and rage on his face as if she was watching a movie.

Her thoughts were slow, frozen, but she concentrated on making sense of it. What set this off? She thought. What does he - then it clicked. “Oh! You think I’m lying!”

“Who the fuck do you think I am?” he said. The torment in his face forced her to take another step back, yet she still felt nothing. “It’s awfully convenient that the one woman left, who I can’t keep my hands off of, can’t get pregnant? How likely is that?”

“About as likely as eight billion people dying in the first place, I guess.” Her heart was pounding but still it was as if it was happening in someone else’s body. “Are you kidding me? I’ve never had a baby. I’ve never seen one be born. There are no doctors or hospitals. All that would happen is we would both die in childbirth. Why would I do that? There are easier ways to go.”

“Bullshit,” he spat.

“And even if we lived,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I would have a baby just to make him grow up alone - it’s been three years and I’m going crazy. I would condemn . . .” She realized she was shaking. It must be cold, she thought.

She focused again on Christian, his narrowed eyes, crossed arms, and set jaw. She watched, curious, as she crossed her arms to match his stance and heard herself say, “Whatever, Christian. I don’t know why you think I would lie about something like that.”

He hesitated. “Really?”

“Really. I had egg abnormalities – I couldn’t get pregnant with 15 years of unprotected sex, it won’t happen this month. We adopted Aaron at birth, and Susan when she was a month old.”

His whole body slumped and he stepped forward and reached for her, but she kept her arms crossed and turned away. As he dropped his arms he was trembling. “I am so sorry, Amanda. I’m so sorry.”

“OK.”

“I thought the same as you, there are no doctors. I wouldn’t know what the hell to do.” His voice was rough and shaking. “And if you did it on purpose, after all that talk about no one owes anyone - I couldn’t have left you to deal with it by yourself, but I don’t see how I could have stood it.”

He started to come back into focus, as if coming closer from a great distance. She realized her pulse was racing and she felt the edges of the hole that would be torn in her if he left and she was alone again.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it.” She paused. “I thought you were about to take off.”

“I was,” he said. “I thought you lied and I didn’t see any way forward. But I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I left wondering if you were pregnant.”

“I wouldn’t have followed. I would have hoped you came back, but if you ever need to go, you’ll go.”

He took a step toward her.

“Wait,” she said and he stopped. She was just now starting to process what had happened. “Wait a minute. Christian, you thought I was not using birth control on purpose, and I was trying to get pregnant? And that I lied about it?”

She had not felt fear at his raging, but now there was - something. Was she angry? Was she afraid, now that it was over? All she felt was the numbness at the core of her, and the prickle of adrenaline in her fingertips and a leaden weight in her stomach.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he said, his voice still shaky. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I guess not,” she said. “Why would I do something like that?”

“You wouldn’t, Amanda. I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“I know.”

He reached out again and this time she dropped her arms and did not turn away. In an instant he was wrapped around her, pulling the whole length of her up against him. He was trembling and his heart was pounding. All she felt, though, was a chill that still left her numb. He held her and took a deep breath and rested his head on hers.

“I am sorry, darlin’,” he whispered. “That just scared me so bad.”

“It’s OK,” she said.

“No, it's not. I can't even honestly tell you it'll never happen again, but I'll do my best.”

“OK.” She couldn’t quite sort out what he meant, but she just put the thought away with the edge of emotion that had made itself felt when she had figured out what he had been mad about.

It was several more minutes before he pulled back to look at her. “This still doesn’t seem likely. A woman who can’t get enough and we don’t even need to worry about that?”

“Maybe this is your dream, then,” she said.

“If this is my dream, in the next town we find a group of survivors and there’s all my family and friends.”

“Well, we’ll have to keep an eye out for them.” She grinned. “Maybe it’ll be a whole town of your most devoted Kaniacs.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I love ya’ll, but ya’ll are _crazy.”_

 

They finished packing up, although he still seemed shaky and Amanda kept catching searching glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. She wasn’t sure how she felt - she didn’t feel angry or scared and she was still compelled to watch him and touch him to make sure he was real, but she felt weirdly numb, as if wrapped in gauze. She came up with the last box as he put the last of the guitars and three guns into the truck, a handgun and two shotguns.

“Oh, wow.”

He turned around. “What?”

“I didn’t think about that. Of course you would have guns.”

“Sure.” He frowned. “You don’t?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “The only thing that would get shot is me or the dogs. I’ve never used one.”

“Huh.” He slammed the tailgate and closed the door of the cap. “I’ll teach you if you want.”

“I dunno. Probably not. We’ll see.” She looked around. “Where are my good boys?” She caught the dogs running around their feet, put them in the van and slammed the door.

“Hey.” He reached out for her hand. “You ok? You're still here, that's a good sign.” She saw a familiar smile but it did not reach his eyes and his hand trembled in hers.

She stopped to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“What . . . happened before.”

“Oh.” She took him in, the intense blue eyes narrowed now in worry, the half-smile fading as she gazed at him. His face was one of the most familiar in the world to her, given how much time she had spent on Youtube videos and Pinterest boards and Google searches looking at him. But for an instant it was the face of a stranger before again she was looking into warm, familiar eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I guess,” she finally said. His brow furrowed further and he tilted his head. She saw how drawn he looked and the pain in his eyes, an expression she had never seen before.

There was a sudden clench around her heart. She still couldn’t tell what she felt, but for an instant there was sharp stab as if from broken glass in her chest as she took a deep breath. He started to say something but she pulled her hand free and turned away. “I need gas before we go. What a pain in the ass.”

 

Christian let out a deep breath. So we’ll pretend it didn’t happen, he thought. I’ll be paying for it later, then, but that’s all right. Somehow, she was still here.

“How do you get gas?” he asked.

“I started by syphoning from other cars, but that’s all spoiling now. I found this at a gas station.” She went to back of the van and dug a bulky battery operated gas syphon pump out of a box of tools. “I figured out how to get into the tanks at gas stations and pump it out by hand. It’s nasty, though - I hate doing it.”

“Nice.” He examined it. “I couldn’t find one of these. It looks a lot easier than what I’m doing.” He opened a toolbox in the truck and showed her a more general-purpose syphon from an aquarium and pond supply place. He felt kind of stupid. As soon as he had figured out a workaround, it hadn’t occurred to him to keep looking for a better solution. “Once we get everything loaded, we’ll go up to the corner and I’ll fill us both up.”

She followed him up to the BP and he filled up the cars. She was still more distant than she had been, not that he fucking blamed her.

“The car batteries are starting to die,” she said, “but I know how to use jumper cables. Actually that and get the gas are all I can do, so when the cars all break down I expect to be stranded.”

“Aww, darlin’!” He gave her a big grin. “I’m an ol’ country boy, and we can keep anything running. So you’re all set now!” He slapped the side of the van and went to put the syphon away. He tossed it into the back of the truck and hesitated, moving stuff around, delaying going back to face her.

He had been angry at himself, that he hadn’t thought and had put her at risk by having sex with her and not using any protection - fucking idiot, he thought. But he had taken it out on her. He saw her jump and her face drain of color, staring at him with wide blue eyes, but he couldn’t stop.

His jaw clenched as he thought of her in his arms, so soft and giving, such a wildcat. If he had blown this already . . . he couldn’t tell, yet. This might get thrown up in his face as the excuse to leave the next time something happened. He wished he knew how to keep the next time from happening.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself to go back to her.

 

It felt strange to Amanda to let him take care of the van, but he assumed he would and seemed glad to do it. ‘You’re all set now,’ he had said. She smiled to herself and the last of the numbing chill that had started in the driveway at his house faded away.

She felt a pleasant shiver at the thought of him being there, of not being alone day after day, but couldn’t shake away the thought - If you’re here. As long as you’re here. If nothing happens.

“Oh - ” he came around the corner of the van and stopped. “You probably haven’t changed your oil or checked it either?”

“No. I just switch cars when they quit working.” She sighed. “That’s been a little tricky, too. You have to find something in a driveway and hope the keys are in the house. If I find something here -” she gestured at the sparsely filled strip-mall parking lot next to the BP - “I guess the keys somehow disappeared with the people.”

He headed into the gas station and came back with a case of oil. He popped the hood, had her start the van, and checked the oil.

“Yep. It’s pretty dirty, but not that low. I’ll just put in a quart and change it when we get there.” He finished up and dropped the hood, and turned to find her standing next to him. “You ok?”

“I think it’s starting to sink in that I’m not alone anymore.” She moved forward into his arms. He pulled her close and turned so she was leaning on the van, her arms around his neck and his at her waist. He leaned against her whole body, not pushing on her but just enough that she felt protected and sheltered. She closed her eyes and let it sink in, that she was not imagining this and another person was here, touching her.

He lowered his head to her shoulder. “I'm so sorry about that before,” he said against her skin, his voice low and rough. “I have a problem with my temper and the last four years sure as hell haven't helped. That scared me so much.” His voice broke. “I just found you, and if you were pregnant and were gonna die because I couldn’t keep my hands off of you . . .”

“Christian, stop it. It’s fine. We don’t have to keep talking about it.” He raised his head and she looked up into the eyes of the warm man she had met the day before. She reached up and kissed him, not teasing but just open to him.

Again, when his mouth touched hers she felt that jolt, that little shock of so much touch after years of nothing, a reminder that she wasn’t alone any more. Her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned as the kiss deepened and she moved against him.

He kissed down to her neck and growled in her ear, “How far to Cincinnati?”

She took a deep breath. “About two hours. But we have two more stops. It’s lunchtime.” As he had been living mostly on cans of cold soup or meat, she mostly ate protein or snack bars. “I’m in the mood to make something. Where’s the grocery?”

They ended up at at Trader Joe’s. She put her high-powered camping lantern in a cart and stopped and looked around as they entered the store.

“This is all you, right?” she asked, pointing to empty shelves and opened packages.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Just part of the routine,” she said. “I figure grocery stores are the most likely place to run into evidence of other people, so I always look around.”

Amused, he followed her directions to get some canned roasted red peppers and his choice of salad dressings. When he joined her she had mixed together some drained cannellini white beans, solid white albacore tuna, jarred garlic and a few capers. The canned food had been frozen and thawed over several winters, so it was to the point that each one had to be checked carefully to make sure the seam hadn’t split open and spoiled. The texture was off, but it was still OK to eat. A lot of the food in glass jars had already broken from being repeatedly frozen.

She drained and chopped the peppers he gave her and threw them in with a generous splash of the white balsamic shallot vinaigrette he had chosen and some salt and pepper.

She fed him a spoonful. “What do you think? Does it need anything?”

“I wonder if they have sun-dried tomatoes in oil. Do you think the lemon juice is still good?” He wandered off and came back with tomatoes and some seasonings and some bottles of flavored sparkling water, and they settled down on the floor with forks to enjoy the salad.

The dogs came up, curious, and with one “Git!” from Amanda they both backed up and lay down, watching intently.

“That was impressive,” Christian said.

“‘Git’ is a useful command. It means ‘leave wherever you are.’”

“This is good.” He took another bite.

She grinned, inordinately pleased. “Thanks. I wish we had crackers or something, but everything’s stale.”

“No, this is perfect. I’m really stoked about having some fresh food. Do you cook a lot?”

“If I feel like it. I’ll probably cook more now that it’s not just me.”

He shook his head. “I loved to cook, but haven’t bothered in years.” He looked down, then grinned a little as he looked up at her sideways, his eyes hooded but intent on her.

“I hope you’ll let me cook for ya.” His southern drawl was a little more pronounced as he looked up and met her gaze.

A big grin spread on her face and she dipped her head to try to hide it. “I would like that a lot.” She looked up and he was still gazing at her, smiling, eyes soft, taking her in. “I can’t believe it - Christian Kane cooking for me.”

She hunched her shoulders and could not get the silly grin off her face, and she couldn’t stifle a giggle. She had managed to not get creepy about how much she knew about him (she hoped!), and could even roll around having torrid sex and stay reasonably adult, but here she was fangirling over him cooking for her?

He raised an eyebrow and looked amused as she tried to calm down, but her face was red. She fanned herself with her hand. “I’m sorry - I don’t know why I’m reacting like this.”

“It’s ok, sweetheart.” He reached over and took the bowl out of her hand and put it aside, and scooted over and leaned next to her on the wall. He took her hand and held it in both of his and tilted his head to try to see her face. She turned away a little and dashed away a tear with her other hand.

“You alright?” he asked, concerned.

“It’s just . . .” she took a deep breath and quickly wiped more tears, pulled her hand away and sat up. “I’m fine.”

How was her family gone and here she was sitting with Christian Kane? Something about him offering to cook for her made her think of Ryan and the kids, but she was not going to go there. She took a deep breath, stood up and moved away from him.

“We’d better get going,” she said. “Let’s do some shopping while we’re here.”

She opened some dog food and treats for the dogs and grabbed the grocery cart. She loaded up on jugs of spring water and they spent some time in the condiments aisle, picking out dressings and fancy vegetables. She was pleased to find a display of high-end meat jerkies and took them all.

“You can do so much with these, and they never spoil.” She passed the display of artisan chocolates. “I miss chocolate. Those would have been good.”

He came over to see. “Go ahead and get some.”

She picked up a chocolate bar, ripped it open and showed him the malformed lump of dusty-looking chocolate. “They’re not any good. When it gets melted and hardened again it’s all chalky. Breaks my heart.”

She asked for one more stop, an outdoor store, and he led her to a Bass Pro Outdoor World. She found a set of walkie-talkies, pulled open the package, put in batteries, and made sure they were working.

“There.” She handed him one. “Now we can stay in touch on the way if one of us wants to stop or something.”

“Good idea.” He clipped it on his pocket. “Anything else?”

She stopped and looked around, then tugged at her shirt. “I need some clean clothes. Do you need anything?”

“It’ll be supper before we get there.” He crossed his arms.

She raised her chin. “You got somewhere to be?”

He grinned and shook his head. “No, ma’am, I guess not.”

He followed her to the women’s section. She picked out some athletic clothes and she saw that crooked half-grin that was so familiar as she stripped off her shirt and pants, leaving them on the floor, and put on the clean clothes.

“I like that you don’t wear a bra,” he said.

“First thing that went after the end of the world. I will never wear one again.”

He laughed. “You sound like Scarlett O’Hara. ‘With God as my witness . . .’”

“Absolutely.” She was flipping through the rack picking out more clothes when she heard him move up behind her. His arms were warm around her and she sighed and leaned back, dropping the shirts she was holding back on the rack.

“I’m trying to decide . .” he pushed her hair to the side and she shivered when he kissed her neck, “if I can wait two hours, or if I’m gonna convince you to join me on one of these air beds.” He kissed her again and she caught her breath.

“Yeah, that, um . .” She gasped again at his tongue on her skin, “That would take a lot of convincing.” She closed her eyes and held on to the rack in front of her when her knees grew weak from the warmth from his arms around her waist and the goose bumps from his kisses on her neck. “It’s not like anyone’s waiting for us.”

He kissed her one more time and rested his head on her shoulder. “Alright. You pick out your clothes, I’ll be back in a minute.”

She watched until he was out of sight among the racks - his long hair, broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscular legs, and the easy, confident way he walked. She took a deep breath and smiled in anticipation. She got less picky about the clothes, grabbing some shirts and pants in her size and shoving them in a bag.

She stopped and looked around again, then took off the roomy T-shirt and comfortable lounge pants she was wearing. She put on a cute little sky-blue tank top to match her eyes, and after lots of looking around decided that trail shorts just weren’t that sexy. She finally found some little flannel pj shorts just as she heard him returning.

She stood and watched him approach, noticing the grin spreading over his face and the way his eyes took her in. He had taken his shirt off and changed into some casual shorts as well. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself.” As he came up to her she ran her hands over his chest, down his back and down to his buttocks, pulling him close. There was a part of her that was still stunned that she had the nerve to have her hands on him like this. “I like this.”

“I got tired of fighting out of those jeans every time. Come here.” He put an arm around her waist and led her to the camping section. Even while her heart pounded and her skin tingled in anticipation she felt like she was in a dream. She was about to have sex, for the fourth time, with a man she just met. And not any man, but Christian Kane, the object of her fantasies for so long.

She looked as him as they walked, his arm warm against her, his grin as he caught her eye and the way he flipped his hair back. After being alone for three and a half years, how likely is this? she thought. This is crazy.

A queen-size air mattress had been liberated from a display and put on the floor, with a sleeping bag and pillows on it and more sleeping bags opened up and ready to pile on top.

She smiled. “Nice! This is the way to camp.” She stepped onto the bed, knelt down, and looked up at him, her eyes shining. He sat next to her and reached up and caressed her cheek, just looking at her. He kissed her and eased her down to the bed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and his muscles shifted under her hands.

“I like it when you don’t wear a shirt,” she said.

“I like it too.” He hooked the spaghetti strap of the tank top over his finger and met her gaze as he eased it down her arm. She slipped her arm out of the strap and her shoulder and upper chest was bare. He leaned over and kissed her bare skin, working the tank top down and other clothes off as he kissed until they lay naked together.

He got up on one elbow and looked at her, brushed her hair back and kissed her. “Do you know we met less than . . . 48 hours ago?”

“I know. That’s crazy,” she said softly.

“And I haven’t scared you off yet.”

“You’ll have to try a lot harder than that.” She reached up and touched him and brushed his hair back. “Why are you so worried about scaring me off?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “You're asking me that after what happened at my house? Living with me, it ain’t easy. And I’m sure I haven’t gotten easier to live with after the last few years.”

“Me neither.” She reached up and kissed him. He returned the kiss, gentle, thorough, teasing, until she was gasping and starting to move against him. “Even knowing you do that on purpose, it still makes me crazy.”

“I like making you crazy.” He kissed down her body, drawing out a response with every touch, matching her rising passion, and she was swept away and the world disappeared as they made love.  


	4. Chapter 4 - Welcome to My House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally make it to the house. If you want to know what he looks like standing in the doorway to the bedroom on their first night together here, look at the cover of your Welcome to My House CD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian or his sexy eyes or intense looks or long gorgeous hair.

 By early afternoon they were cuddled together, the dogs on the foot of the bed. Christian lay with his face in her hair, savoring the scent and feel of a warm female body in his arms.

“OK, we either need to hit the road or camp here for tonight. I don’t want to get there in the dark,” Amanda said against his chest.

“That’s a hard choice.” He rolled to his back with her on top, looking down at him, smiling. He was still buzzing from their lovemaking; the constant awareness of the devastation was pushed back for a moment when he lost himself with her. For the moment he also pushed away wondering how long this would last. She looked so peaceful, with her eyes soft and that sweet smile.

“There’s no hurry, I guess.” She kissed his neck and chest and he shivered at her touch. “The house will still be there. I just can’t wait for you to see it.”

“Your call,” he said. “Stay or go.”

She rested her head on his chest, thinking, and then said, “Stay,” and sat up astride him. “Let’s cook. There’s lots of freeze dried food. Let’s set up a camp stove and make something.”

“Mmmm.” His eyes were drawn to her, her full breasts moving above him, her bare skin, his hands on her hips where she sat straddling him, naked. He still couldn’t believe it when her hands were all over him, and that he could just touch her everywhere, as if they had been together forever.

He ran his hands up over her legs and hips, her stomach and breasts, up to caress her face. “Or we could just stay right here.”

She laughed and swung off of him. “Food first.”

They got dressed, and while he was poking around the store he realized she was gathering food and supplies for dinner.

“Hey, I’ll get dinner.” He relieved her of the packages, but she just grabbed something else. Twice more he insisted on cooking, and finally she dropped what she had.

“Fine,” she said. “I’m going to go get a shower.”

“A shower? Where are you going to get a shower?”

“I have my system.”

As he scouted out and set up a camp stove, he watched her as she looked over the camp soap assortment, then went to her van parked right outside the door and came back with some kind of fancy pink bath stuff and shampoo. She grabbed a gallon of drinking water, a towel and some clothes and headed off.

He looked through the freeze-dried foods and found some things that didn’t look too bad. It felt great to do something as simple as hook up the propane, turn on the stove and heat the food. He had cooked some with Carson but since he had passed Christian had barely bothered to heat anything up, much less cook.

Christian was surprised that he was anxious with Amanda out of sight. He had been watching her, whatever they were doing, since they met, still trying to believe he wasn’t alone - and that he had somehow found someone who wanted him as much as he wanted her. They’d had sex, what, three or four times in the two days? He shook his head. He was still trying to wrap his head around that.

She came up beside him and put her arm around his waist and he leaned against her. Her skin was rosy from cleaning up in cold water, her hair was wrapped in a towel and she smelled like raspberries and vanilla.

“That smells good,” she said.

“Fire-roasted vegetable blend and chicken teriyaki with rice. Not that fancy, just freeze-dried. I found raspberry crisp or -” he picked up the package to check - “cinnamon bun camp sandwich for dessert.” He put an arm around her. “Mmm - you smell good.”

They enjoyed their supper and Christian went off to clean up, opting for the Bass Pro liquid trail soap rather than vanilla and raspberries. They picked out some food and clothes to take with them, played with the dogs and wandered the store with a lantern, ending up cuddled up with a blanket on a wide leather sofa.

“It’s early yet,” Christian said. “What would you have been doing before we met?”

“I’d be home by now, and airing out the house and setting stuff up. Once that’s done - which I stretch out as long as possible - I would be reading, or painting, or training the dogs, or gardening, or chopping wood, or making collages, or decide I’m going to build a chair out of firewood or something, or pretty much anything to keep myself occupied.”

She shrugged. “You’ll see a lot of weird projects when we get up there. The only thing I don’t do is journal or write - it was too depressing. What about you?”

He hesitated. “Well, right about now I would be starting to drink pretty hard, and in a few hours be drunk off my ass and pass out. I’d get up by afternoon tomorrow, get something to eat, play some music if I was up to it, decide whether to make it one more day, then do it again.” He shook his head. “Before I came back to Nashville I was pretty much traveling or searching every day.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “I wonder what it will be like when we get settled in.”

“When I was traveling with Carson for that year, we were on the move the whole time. So I don’t know.”

He leaned over and kissed her, pushed the blanket out of the way, and eased her back onto the couch. He smiled and brushed her hair back, trailed his fingers down her face to her lips, cradled her face and kissed her. She sighed and he felt her whole body relax.

Some of the urgency between them had finally been satisfied. He let himself revel in the give and take of their kisses, feeling her suck on his lip, running her tongue against his.

He kissed his way down to her throat. “I can think of some things to keep us busy,” he murmured against her neck.

She opened her eyes but it took a second for her to focus on him and she smiled, meeting his steady gaze and half-grin.

“Well, sure,” she said, “but that’s only going to take three or four hours a day,” she said. He raised his eyebrow and her grin widened. “The good thing is it’s not like we’re cooped up in a trailer. We have all the space in the world, so if we do get on each other’s nerves we can back off for a while.”

His heart suddenly sped up and his mouth was dry. He rested his head against hers.

“I don’t think I’ll need much space for a while, if you can stand me.” He could hear that his voice had gotten rough and he swallowed hard, but the thought of losing her already, of being alone again, was unbearable.

Her face had gotten pale and she closed her eyes. “No,” she finally managed to say. “Me neither.”

“Are you OK? You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine. It’s just getting used to this.”

“Mmmm.” He held her tight. “I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t think I woulda lasted much longer.” He pulled back after a few moments and smiled at her and kissed her lips, then her nose.

She grinned and reached up to stroke his face, studying his blue eyes. “We’re here now.”

When they got cold they wandered back to their bed, cuddling and talking. Christian learned that she had married her childhood sweetheart, Ryan, at 21, and they had been married 17 years when the pandemic hit.

It had about destroyed him to lose everyone; Christian couldn’t imagine how you survived after losing a spouse and children as well. Ryan had been an engineer with the city, and Amanda had worked with young children with disabilities, staying home when Aaron and Susan were small.

“I’ve worked with every age from birth to fourth grade,” she said. “Other than that, I read a lot and I was a serial hobbyist. I know just a little bit about lots of stuff.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Um - papermaking, basket weaving, gardening, cooking, herbcraft, fermenting, drawing, painting. I built a wooden shelf once, but it was really shitty. It probably had more screws than wood by weight. Woodburning pictures, for a while. I’m not the most attentive person, that was probably really dangerous.

“I took flute lessons. I was in a choir for a couple years. I was the president or secretary or whatever for the PTA and adoptive parents group and church. Oh, I was trying to make furniture out of grapevines one summer.”

He was grinning at her descriptions. “Fermenting?”

“Making pickles and sauerkraut and stuff. It’s an art.”

“I guess.” He was quiet for a moment. “What was Ryan like?”

“He was a good guy. A really good family man. He did a lot with computers but didn’t have a lot of interests other than that. He was very tolerant of all the weird stuff I’d get into.”

“It doesn’t sound that weird.”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “I was always getting all excited about something.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said.

She smiled, bit her lip and lowered her head. “Anyway, it keeps me busy now. If I’m not too depressed to get out of bed I can always find something to do.”

She asked him about his family and his music and it was fun that she had an extensive knowledge of his music - she could quote almost any song, and loved hearing the stories behind them. He found those were happy memories and he was glad to share them. They talked and laughed and cuddled and drifted to sleep wrapped around each other.

 

The next day after breakfast and feeding the dogs, Amanda loaded up the van with camp food and some cooking supplies while Christian picked out some clothes, a hunting knife, a pair of boots and another hunting rifle and ammunition. Less than two hours later they were arriving in Cincinnati.

“I can’t wait for you to see the house,” she said over the walkie-talkie.

“I know, you said that.” She could hear his grin over the static.

“And here, sir, on your right, is Laurel Court.” The weedy and overgrown lawn was vast, dotted with life-sized marble statues of angels and men in togas, and the huge 2-story limestone mansion towered over it. Six greek columns stretched up the two floors at the front of the building, flanked by huge wings on either side. Hints of the formal manicured French gardens could be seen through the undergrowth and a huge three-level fountain with cherubs dominated the center of the lawn.

She drove through the wrought-iron gate along the circular driveway to the wide sweeping steps at the front of the house. She jumped out of the van and ran over to him as he got out of the truck. “Welcome to my house! What do you think?”

“Wow. I can see why you were excited about it.”

“It has 36 rooms and a big two-story atrium in the middle. It was built in 1902, and it’s based on the palace in France where Marie Antoinette lived. This place is crazy. Look -” she pointed - “there’s also two cottages and a huge carriage house, and there are tunnels connecting everything. I paid twelve bucks once for a tour, and now I have the run of the place.”

She was like a kid in a candy store showing him around, the dogs racing ahead and behind them. She led him through the double leaded-glass doors into the huge marble foyer and stopped in the wide hallway in front of the double staircase, undecided.

“Here - this way first.” She turned right. The hallway down the center of the house was twelve feet wide, with alcoves for ornate statuary.

He stopped to point. “There’s a bar in the hallway?”

“They did wedding receptions and events here, but people lived here too.” She took him to the end of the hallway and pointed right. “Here’s the music room.” Everything in the room was gilded - the ornate plaster moldings that covered corner and angle, the furniture, and the two Steinway pianos. Two huge European crystal chandeliers, covered with dust, hung from the ceiling, surrounded by murals of cherubs and clouds.

“Isn’t this crazy?” she asked, as he looked around and took it in. Scattered about the room around the Steinways and matching gilded loveseats were lots of native and ethnic drums of all kinds. She had camping lanterns in each room, but sunlight was pouring in at this time of the day.

“Holy shit. Did those come with the house?” he asked, pointing at the drums.

“No, I got those. I think the second summer I went to all the music stores and import shops and gathered all the drums I could find. I like to mess with them.” She went to a big African djembe and drummed out a rhythm.

“Hell, yeah.” He went to a rope-covered middle-eastern ashiko and started tapping, softly at first then louder, leaning forward as he got into the rhythm. Her jaw dropped and she grinned when she recognized the beat to _Spirit Boy_. She stopped playing, but when he looked up and nodded she started again and they played together.

He finished with a triple-beat flourish that she matched and he looked up, grinning. “Oh, hell, darlin’, that’s going to be fun.”

She took him next across the broad hall to the dining room and kitchen. The dining table sat 14, and the butler’s pantry was as large as a full kitchen in another house. She led him on through to the kitchen, huge and commercially equipped.

“I’ve been a little nervous about setting up a propane stove here in the kitchen - I was worried about gas leaks, or it blowing up. I mostly use this for storage, and cook out here.” She led him through to a big screened in porch with storm windows. The double doors opened to a stone patio outdoors.

“I’ve got to get it all set up, but there’s a fire pit with some dutch ovens, a gas and a charcoal grill, and some solar ovens for out on the patio, and I have the camp stove and counter space here on the porch. This is my favorite right stove now - I tried different ones, but I like this.” She uncovered a Denali Pro three-burner stove with a griddle. “I can pretty much cook anything I want on here.”

“Ah, honey, this is amazing!” He moved around the porch, looking under covers and in boxes. “I can’t wait to cook up something for ya.”

Her heart was pounding as they cut through the two-story atrium to the parlor. His grin was wide and he seemed delighted with everything she showed him. In the parlor there was lots of sturdy leather furniture including couches and ottomans and imposing wingback chairs. There was a huge desk, hand-carved African mahogany paneling, a pool table, and a marble fireplace. It was a room about as big as three normal living rooms.

“Isn’t this great?” she said. “Here - let’s go upstairs.” They went back to the hall and up the grand staircase, going first to the library, paneled in African rosewood. She turned on one of the big camping lanterns and pointed out a whole wall of leather-bound matching volumes.

“These came with the house. There were about three thousand books in here - I put a bunch in one of the bedrooms so I’d have room for mine.” She showed him the several hundred books on gardening, cooking, preserving, first aid, building and survival; she explained that on her scrounging she grabbed anything that might be useful in the current world. The rest was all kinds of fiction, mostly romances and science fiction.

“I used to read all kinds of stuff,” she said. “I was interested in science and philosophy. I just want to escape, now.”

She couldn’t stop smiling as she led him through the rest of the upstairs. This was going to be so different and so fun, to share all this after having to herself for three years. One large sitting room or parlor upstairs was set up with art supplies and easels with lots of half-finished projects and colorful paintings.

“That’s . . . . interesting.” He considered a white mass with splashes of color hanging from the ceiling.

“That’s a paper mache sculpture. It started out as some flowers, but I think it looks more like a cloud. With . . . a cow on it?” She reached up and pushed on it, setting it slowly spinning. “Almost everything I make is abstract, since I have no actual talent. Keeps me busy.”

She led him through a couple of the eight bedrooms, pointing out the master suite that she usually slept in. One bedroom was full of stuff from the rest of the house she didn’t want, including the extra books from the library, and several others were storage.

He did a double take as she led him by a sea foam green room with a double bed piled several feet high with stuffed animals.

“When I find any I like I take them,” she said. “Some days just call for cuddling a pile of stuffed animals.”

“I guess so. I never thought of it.”

“The bathrooms - that one,” she pointed at a door down the hall, away from the rooms she used, “has a composting camping toilet. I mostly use it if the weather’s bad. There’s another outside in a shed. Feel free to pee outside, though - we won’t have to empty them so often. All the bathrooms have big jugs with spigots for washing up - I wouldn’t drink it, it’s from the rain barrels. They’ll be a gallon jug, too, to drink or brush teeth or whatever. Same in the kitchen.”

He was chuckling by the time she finished. “Got it.”

She returned his grin and shrugged. “I figured you need to know this stuff.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He was grinning, but he looked a little shell-shocked and it occurred to her that he might be feeling pretty overwhelmed.

He’ll be all right, she thought. She could not seem to stop talking and she was so excited to show him everything.

“Next, the pantry.” She took him back down through the kitchen to the basement. “We can move stuff up to the kitchen or out to the porch to make it easier to get to, but I was trying to keep it from freezing over the winter.” They came to a room with three long rows of shelves, five high, loaded with canned, dried, and packaged food.

“I assumed I’d be stranded when the cars stopped working, so I’ve been stockpiling here and at the place in Atlanta.”

“Wow. You are set.” He wandered the room with a lantern, picking up packages here and there to look more closely.

“I told you.” She pointed out one shelf unit full of jars and bags of spices, seasonings, herbs, and spice mixes of all kinds. “Some of them are getting old and losing their flavor, but you can just use more.”

She showed him the next room, a little smaller, with shelves loaded with non-food stuff like candles, flashlights, batteries, cleaning supplies, toiletries, soap, medicine, toothbrushes, towels, dishcloths, and so forth. “If there’s anything you need, help yourself.”

He just stood there, looking at her. “I don’t know what to say. This is quite a set up.”

“You know what, I always felt bad that I didn’t look longer,” she said. “I thought maybe there’s someone I could help, or I don’t have to be alone. But you did go searching, and it turns out it probably wouldn’t have done any good. And you were moving around, so maybe you didn’t get to make the most of everything that was left. Between the two of us, we did both.” She shrugged. “I dunno. We just make the best of it now, I guess.”

“Yeah.” He picked up a bottle of shampoo and looked at it. “I guess that’s all there is to do.” He put it back on the shelf. “What next?”

They headed back up to the main floor and she stopped at the bar in the hallway and pointed out the first aid kit, a large plastic toolbox she had stocked with everything that might be needed. “This looked like a good, central spot.”

She took a big breath. “Help yourself and do what you want. I’ll let you know if there is anything I want a particular way. Otherwise, whatever.”

As she passed him he caught her hand. He pulled her around and she was standing with her back to the wall, him leaning against her, looking down at her. “Hey. You OK?”

“Yeah.” She suddenly felt breathless under his scrutiny. “Why?”

“You seem a little . . . I don’t know. Frantic.”

“Oh.” She took a deep breath and looked up at him, his intense blue eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, his hair loose and wavy, his body warm against hers. She could even feel his breath against her.

It struck her again that she wasn’t alone anymore - no more dreading starting anything, knowing it would end and she would be left alone with her thoughts again. No more feeling the panic catch her, and no one around to pull her out.

She put her arms around his neck and relaxed against him. “I guess I’m wondering what you think of all this and what’s going to happen next.”

“I think it’s amazing, and I feel a little stupid that I could have been living like this the last three years.”

“It gets boring when there is no point. Almost unbearable. At least you had a reason to get up in the morning,” she said.

He shook his head. “I don’t know what happens next either.” His voice was low and soothing. “We play it by ear. What do you want to do now?”

“I guess get some lunch, then empty the van and truck and set up the hot tub. I like to do that right away so I can use it as soon as we get a good rain.”

“Tell you what, you go get your stuff and I’ll rustle up some lunch.”

“No, that’s OK, you don’t . . .”

“I’ll be honest with ya,” he said. “I’m looking forward to cooking up some real food. You go on, now, I’ll be alright.”

“Okay.” She leaned her weight back against the wall, looking up at him with her fingers laced behind his neck. His eyes softened and he smiled as he looked at her. She gently pulled him down until they kissed. She closed her eyes and focused on his soft mouth, how he nibbled on her lip, teasing against his lip with her tongue.

“Mmmm.” She put her head back and smiled, sliding her arms down to his waist and pulling him snug against her.

I can’t believe this, she thought. I can just kiss Christian Kane whenever I want? “I feel better now.”

“I’m glad.”

“There’s a lot more to show you, but there’s no hurry, is there?” she asked.

“No, ma’am.”

They went back to the kitchen and she showed him where the utensils and bowls were, then she headed out to the van. She took an armload of freeze-dried camping meals downstairs and passed him coming up with his arms full of jars, cans and bags and a big smile on his face.

“This is going to be fun!” he said as he passed by.

Instead of going back to the van she got a big mixing bowl and went out to the yard. It was a beautiful day - it was still early spring, probably April, so it was a little cool, but the sky was clear. The early plants were just starting to emerge all over the estate. Jack and Cody were excited and running around, smelling where the rabbits, squirrels and the few deer had visited while they were gone.

“Go get ‘em, boys!” They danced around her feet and took off again. She checked the garden first, pulling back the leaves she had piled on in the fall. She found parsley, sorrel, celery and fennel starting to sprout and gathered some for her bowl.

The carrots had done well under the mulch and she pulled a half-dozen or so. She found a nice patch of purslane and some lamb’s quarters, and pushed leaves and weeds aside to find little violet and plantain leaves and picked some fiddleheads from some emerging ferns. She went to the little stream that ran through the property and was glad to see the watercress was already abundant.

She nibbled the greens as she headed back to the house, stopping at the van to get a gallon of drinking water. It was so nice to have fresh food again. She assembled the salad and went to join Christian where she could hear him on the porch.

“I made a salad to go with lunch.”

“What? Where did you get a salad?” He had some patties on the grill that smelled wonderful. He flipped one and looked at what she had. She pointed out the different herbs and gave him some to taste. “How did you know what to get?” he asked.

“Herbcraft, remember? One of my hobbies? How to cook with them and make wreaths and vinegars and wildcrafting. It’s a thing.” He just grinned and shook his head. “What are we having? That smells wonderful.”

“Salmon croquettes. It’s better with fresh, of course, but you had some really decent imported canned salmon. Here, look -” she grinned at his excitement and sat down in a patio chair to enjoy the presentation. “We have these roasted red peppers, and the bottled lemon juice was still good - I was a little surprised at that. Some garlic, dried onion, parsley, and just a little bit of dill.”

He grinned, a big smile that lit up his face. “I tell you what, I had fun with all those spices you have. The croquettes are a little tender cause I don’t have any eggs, but you got these panko bread crumbs for breading, I love that stuff, that’ll make it nice and crisp.” He stirred a small pot on the burner. “We got a balsamic glaze; we’ll put the greens on the plate, then the salmon and the glaze -” he looked again at the salad and looked up at her, grinning. “Carrots?”

“Yep. They came through the winter just like I hoped.” She held up a piece for him and he nibbled it from her hand. “It’s nice to have something crunchy after all the canned food, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. I made a vegetable salad, too; chickpeas and corn and green beans, some good red wine vinegar - you had some good sesame oil, so I put in a little soy sauce, too, to play that up. Just a pinch of ginger, and some more garlic. And a little honey to even it out.” He held out a spoonful to her.

“Oh my God. That’s amazing. It’s such a bright flavor - the vinegar, I guess? Or the ginger?”

He was grinning like a kid. “Yes, ma’am. We are set. Can you get some plates?”

She got the plates and went to the basement to get some wine while he served up the food. She picked out two bottles of white at random and when she got back upstairs held them out to him. “Which one?”

“It don’t matter to me. Whatever you think.”

“Oh - I thought you liked wine.”

“I like it fine, I just don’t know a lot about it. Now, ask me about whiskey, I’ll tell you about that.” She put one bottle aside and after a moment realized why she was so surprised - the character Eliot he had played on _Leverage_ had known all about wine. 

She helped him carry the food to the dining room and opened a bottle. “This is gorgeous.” The greens were divided on the plates, with two croquettes arranged on top of each and drizzled with the glaze and the colorful bean salad nestled next to it. She served the wine and they dug in.

“This is so good,” she said. “I had the same ingredients but I never put together anything like this. I don’t remember if you ever made anything like this on Kane’s Kitchen.”

He stopped. “I was about to be surprised you knew about that, but of course you watched Kane’s Kitchen.”

“I loved it. Not many country music, TV/movie stars also have a cooking show.”

“I miss it. I gotta tell ya, this is fun.”

They enjoyed the salmon and salad and wine, with Amanda having two glasses and Christian the rest. “That was delicious. Thank you.”

“Glad to do it.”

They finished up and she instructed him on the clean up routines - anything at all that would break down. such as food scraps and paper, got composted, just to reduce the amount of trash to deal with. Other trash went into cans and got hauled off the compound and dumped.

“It’s a little different when you stay put. You can’t really let it pile up for years. And I meant to tell you,” she continued. “The bathtub and shower drains still work. You can take in a gallon jug or heat up some water and take a bath or sort of a shower.”

She took her time drying her hands as he put the clean dishes back in the cupboard - she wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

“Um, I have some things I usually do when I’m getting settled in.” She shrugged. “I guess you can hang out with me, or you can go poke around and get your stuff moved in. I’ll get my stuff taken care of, and we’ll meet up later?”

“Whatever you think, darlin’.” He grinned at her and her heart skipped a beat. She recognized every expression, or it reminded her of one she had seen on TV or in a picture. So many times she had imagined and fantasized about them being directed at her, and now they were, his smile and his looks were at her, responding to her.

This is crazy, she thought. She watched him as he reached up to put a last plate away, his T-shirt stretching over his shoulders. His hair was tied back now, the ponytail halfway down his back in loose waves. He had a day’s worth of stubble and she caught her breath when she thought of him kissing her and tickling her neck and breasts. 

“Um. yes. Sure. You go do your thing, and I’ll catch up to you later.” She escaped the kitchen and took a deep breath.

This is crazy, she thought again. How is that man in my house? She shook her head and got to work, stripping the sheets and comforter off the big bed in the master suite and hanging them on the clothesline to freshen up in the spring breeze.

She passed through the house and saw that Christian had gotten the kitchen area all ready - the grills were rolled out to the covered patio and the utensils and prep area all set up. She smiled and found him taking a box out of his truck.

“Hey.” She hugged him from behind. “Thank you for setting up the cook shack.”

“You’re welcome.” He put the box down, turned around and pulled her close. “What are you up to next?”

“Setting up the hot tub.”

“Oh, good,” he said. “Can I help with that?”

It was intended for camping and was made of vinyl with PVC pipe for the frame, about two feet high and six feet across. Firewood was used in the stainless steel heater coil that circulated the water. She showed him where she usually set it up, close to one of the rain barrels she had by every drain spout on the house. She redirected the flexible downspout into the tub and threw a tarp over it to keep leaves and dirt out. “It takes about 200 gallons to fill it up, so the first or second good rainstorm will do it.”

“I gotta be honest with ya, I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a nice hot bath.”

“Me too. Ok, you’re on your own again. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.” But he reached out and pulled her close, his eyes searching hers and brushing her hair back from her face. “I’m really glad I found you.”

“Oh, God, me too.” She rested her head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat as he stood there, holding her. She took a deep breath and took in his scent, and closed her eyes to focus on the feel of his arms firm and warm around her. She felt like she could rest there forever, but finally sighed and pushed back. He gave her that mischievous grin and headed back to his truck.

She set up all the rain barrels, turning them upright and closing the valves. You couldn’t leave them up all winter or the freezing water would ruin them. She aired out the bathroom, a little outbuilding behind the house where she had put the composting toilet, and restocked it and the bathrooms in the house with jugs of water, soap, lotion, towels and toilet paper.

She started unpacking the van, stashing some of the stuff she had scrounged on her spring trip up from Atlanta, piling the rest up in the parlor when she got bored. She passed Christian a few times as they went to and from the house and they smiled or spoke to each other. It gave her a thrill each time to be reminded she wasn’t alone.

That’s enough for today, she thought. She got a lawn chair and set it up on one of the porches, looking out over the overgrown yard. Jack came and jumped up on her lap now that she was finally sitting still. He put his paws up on her shoulders and licked her face.

Amanda scratched under his chin. “You’re not used to mommy having someone else to pay attention to, are you? It was just you and me and Cody. Mommy’s busy now, huh? Are you a good boy?”

Christian came around the corner of the porch carrying a guitar case. “I thought I heard you.” He put down the guitar, looked around for another lawn chair and pulled it up next to her. “Do you mind if I put the guitars in with the drums?”

“No, that’s fine. If we figure out we need separate spaces later we can spread out.”

He leaned back. “This is a pretty place.” He looked over curiously as she looked down and pet the dog. “What’s that big grin for?”

She had to swallow before she could speak. “I’m just so happy right this minute. This was a hard time for me the last few years - I could count on being busy for a few days, but then all I had to look forward to was trying to distract myself and find a reason to get up in the morning. It’s different now.”

He reached over and took her hand. His fingers were warm and she felt a shiver when he gave her a squeeze.

“I’m glad, sweetheart,” he said. They sat in companionable silence, and when Cody came over to investigate Christian picked him up and found the spot he liked to be scratched, right behind his ears.

 She smiled to see them together. “I don’t think Cody ever really got used to me, but he likes you a lot.”

 “He’s a good ol’ dog. A mite small, though.” Cody flipped to his back and Christian scratched his tummy. “What’s next?”

“I’m done for the day. I just need to make up the bed,” she gestured to the sheets hanging on the line, “and find something to eat later.”

He grinned. “I’ll get supper.”

“No, that’s OK, I’ll . . .”

 “Amanda, you’d be doing me a favor.” He lowered his head a little and held her gaze, his blue eyes steady on her with that small, crooked smile that made her heart speed up.

“Um, OK.” She concentrated on Jack again and could tell she was blushing. She looked over to see him leaning back in his chair, one hand on the dog, and a bigger, satisfied grin on his face.

He does that on purpose, she thought. I wonder how often he used that look to get what he wants. But she wasn’t complaining - if what he wanted was to cook gourmet meals for her, she would let him get away with it.

“Do you want to see the garden?” she asked.

He sat up and put Cody on the ground. “Oh, hell, yeah.”

She took him to the six rectangular raised beds beside the house. “Every summer I add one or two.” She got the rake and pulled back the leaves, showing him the perennial and biennial herbs and the carrots and potatoes. The onions from last year were sprouting so they could pick some green onions, and a couple of garlic heads had been missed in the fall and they could see the little green sprouts.

“Looks like I missed some garlic. I’ll need to separate that and replant it.”

“You have fresh garlic.” He rubbed his hands together. “And potatoes? That’s what we’ll have for dinner.”

“The potato bed needs to be dug out and the little ones replanted, but you can go ahead and get some big ones if you want. I’ve got some down in the root cellar, too, if it didn’t freeze. You can help me decide what we plant this year. We should go ahead and get most of it in the ground.”

“What all do you have?”

“Geez. About 20 kinds of beans and 15 kinds of tomatoes. Peppers, squash, melons, herbs. Popcorn. There is some lettuce and spinach left - I’ve been trying to save the seed but I’m not having much luck yet. This is all stuff from the grocery stores. If the final collapse had happened a little earlier in the year I’d have seeds for every vegetable you can imagine, but the garden stores had already cleared out most of the seed displays.”

“Wow. It never occurred to me to go look.”

“We had different priorities.” She grinned. “Wait - you’ll love this. Come here.” She took him to a long pile of leaves next to the vegetable beds and carefully pulled the leaves back to expose the dirt. “Look.”

He looked up with a big smile. “Asparagus?” A few spears were up already, ranging from an inch to three or four inches.

“Yep. At the end of the first summer I found a clearance display with a couple dozen roots. It was enough to start a nice bed.” She pulled back more leaves and snapped off two of the tallest spears, handed one to Christian, and took a bite out of the other.

He ate it in two bites. “Oh, man. Can I use these for dinner?”

“Sure. You can pick any that are big enough. We’ll get a lot more. Be careful pulling back the mulch, they’re fragile.” She showed him the herb garden around the huge dry fountain in the front. The rosemary had survived in its protected spot against the house under the mulch, and the thyme, oregano, sage, mint, and chives were all showing green.

“Alright, I’m off to start supper.” He looked like a kid in a candy store.

“I have one more thing to show you.” She took him back to the pantry in the basement. In a little dark room were more shelves and some large baskets with lids. “Yuck - this doesn’t smell right.” The baskets of garlic and onions from last year, nestled in shredded paper, were fine - the smell came from a big basket of potatoes.

“Some of these potatoes must have spoiled - I’ll have to sort through and see if any are still good. Now, here -” she held the lantern up to show him a shelf with dozens and dozens of bags and boxes of flour, cornmeal, instant milk, cornstarch, cocoa, nuts, and leavening like baking powder and yeast, all vacuum-sealed in plastic bags. “This stuff is all still good. It lasts longer if it doesn’t get air so I found a battery operated vacuum food saver thing.”

“Wow.” He looked around, then turned to her, smiling. “Any other surprises?”

“Not right this minute.”

He took one step forward in the little space and took the lantern from her and put it on the ground. He cradled her face in his warm hands and kissed her. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, returning his kisses and melting into him. He kissed her thoroughly, softly, firmly; she closed her eyes and was lost, gasping and feeling her knees go weak by the time he raised his head, his rough breathing matching hers.

It was a few breaths before she could speak. “Wow. What brought that on?”

“I just . . .” She had her arms around him and he was shaking against her in the shadows of the cellar. “I don’t know. I’m just so glad not to be alone.” His voice broke on the last word and he laid his head on her shoulder.

She held him, her heart pounding. Even though he had said several times how how hard it was for him to be alone, this caught her by surprise. Why was she so stunned, though?

Something had shifted for her . . . Eliot. In a flash she realized that she had been relating to Christian as if he were Eliot, the character she had first fallen in love with, even though she knew better. His competence at everything, the strength, the instinctive taking care of her, the flashes of anger and visible gathering of control, the charm, especially to get what he wanted, even his voice and manner, all could have been Eliot. He had said in interviews that Eliot was the character that was most like him.

The one thing Eliot never did, though, in any show or fanfiction, was admit weakness. He cared deeply and felt deeply, but the characters around Eliot understood that by his actions and by what he did not say, not because he ever came out and said it. But Christian was a man, not a character, not sent to save her but with his own history and his own demons. She wondered if she had yet seen the real Christian or if he was still playing a role. What did that even mean, though? Was she being her “real” self?

It must have been only a minute that passed before Christian raised his head and loosened his hold. “I’m going to go start dinner.” he said softly.

“Ok.” She reached up and touched his face, closing her eyes to concentrate on the feel of his skin against her hand and the heat from his body so close to her. “Have fun.”

“Oh, I will.” He grinned and left.

           

 She brought the sheets in so they wouldn’t get wet from the dew and piled them on the bed. She settled herself on the porch and watched Christian finish their meal, enjoying his excitement and play by play description of the preparation. He had found a canned ham and sauteed it with a homemade dijon sauce.

The potatoes and asparagus with fresh garlic and onions were wonderful, and they finished the bean salad from lunch. He opened a bottle of wine for Amanda and had whiskey for himself.

“I’ll be honest with ya, what I really want right now is a cold beer,” he said. “But all the beer was shit after the first summer.”

Amanda had lit tall candles and put together a small bouquet of violets and dandelions for the table. She couldn’t stop complimenting the meal, and his grin grew bigger. He asked gently about her teaching, and she found herself sharing about her classroom and some of the kids she had worked with. If he noticed that she didn’t say anything about her own children or Ryan he didn’t mention it.

 

After dinner he brought the rest of his stuff in from the truck and Amanda went upstairs to make up the bed with the freshened sheets. She lit the candles around the room and found herself plumping the pillows again as twilight started to fall. She was surprised that she felt nervous, almost shy, thinking about him, even after hot sex four times in three days. But this was different - they would be together for a while, now, and it seemed to matter what happened next.

“Hey.”

She turned to see him leaning in the doorway.

“Hey, you.” Her heart pounded just looking at him. His hair was swept back and down. He wore a blue T-shirt that was tight across his broad shoulders, and he leaned back with his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his jeans. His face was serious and his gaze was steady as he looked at her. She took a deep breath and started toward him, and a slow smile spread across his face and he stood up and reached for her as she drew near.

Maybe he is nervous too, she thought, and then wasn’t thinking anymore as he reached around her waist and pulled her close, cradled her head and kissed her.

“Mmmm.” She closed her eyes as she felt his warm lips teasing her, the heat from his hands, and the pressure of his body against hers. It took a second to catch her breath. “So, you can stay in here with me if you want, or you can have any of the other bedrooms.”

He tilted his head and looked at her. “What do you think?” he growled.

She ducked her head. “I don’t want to assume.”

“Amanda, you are safe to assume at any time that I’d rather be sleeping with you than somewhere else by myself.” He was playful, but there was a little edge to his voice. “Now, here’s the question - do you want me in here?”

“Yes.”

“If you didn’t, would you tell me?”

She hesitated. Before the end of the world, she might not have. It would depend on what he wanted. Things had changed with him here, but they were both adults who could take care of themselves. She couldn’t imagine kicking him out of her bed, but she needed to trust herself and keep the option open. It would be easy to get caught up in him and lose herself, and he could disappear as easily as everyone else.

“Yes.”

He was looking at her with head cocked and eyebrow raised by the time she answered. “Seems you put some thought into that one.”

“Before the . . . before, I might not have,” she said. “Things are different now.”

He grinned and wrapped his arms more firmly around her. “Alright. What now? What do you want right now?”

“What do I want . .” She reached up and stroked his face, feeling a day’s worth of stubble. “Hmmm.” She kissed down his neck, feeling the soft skin and his pulse against her lips. “I know what I want. Have you ever had a massage?”

He grinned and shook his head. “You always surprise me. Yes, ma’am. Why?”

“Purely selfish reasons. I just want to get my hands on you. So you get undressed and get in bed, and I’ll give you a massage.”

“I’m not going to argue with ya.” He stepped back, grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt, pulled it over his head in one smooth motion and tossed it aside.

“Wow.” He started to reach for the waistband of his jeans but she had already moved back into his arms. “Look at this.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and down over his biceps, then put her arms around his neck and felt the muscles flex as he wrapped his arms around her. “How did you stay so fit? Look at these muscles.” She squeezed his arm and he flexed for her. “Mmmm.”

He gave a short laugh. “I’m not in that great a shape, sweetheart.”

“Looks good to me.”

“I don’t know, then. Just a lot of moving around, I guess.”

“Alright. Get undressed to your comfort level and get in bed and I’ll be right back.”

“My comfort level?” she heard, and grinned as she left the room.

She felt like she was flying down the two flights of stairs to the basement pantry. She looked through her collection of fancy oils and shower gels, finally picking out a massage oil with jasmine and ylang ylang. She grabbed a towel and ran back up, pausing outside the door to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding, and it wasn’t only the two flights of steps. She bit her lip when she thought of him pulling his shirt off.

She stepped into the room and he was laying on the bed on his back in the glow of the candlelight, hands behind his head, blanket up to his waist. He got up on one elbow and smiled at her as she came in.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, his voice low. His bare chest, the way his hair hung down, the sexy smile, his blue eyes taking her in - she stopped and looked at him.

“Wow. I can’t believe this.” She knelt on the bed next to him and he lay back, still smiling at her. She ran her hands over his chest and his eyes softened. She reached down to his hip under the covers and back - yes, he was nude. She grinned - she had hoped that was his comfort level.

“Turn over.” She moved the pillow out of the way as he turned over on his stomach with his arms up by his head. She got some oil, warmed it up in her hands, and stroked his back, going slowly and firmly to feel the muscles move under her hands. She heard his breathing deepen.

She took her time, watching and feeling the muscles move under his oiled skin in the candlelight. She found herself lost in the intoxicating scent of the oil, the warmth radiating from him at every touch, and glow of his skin in the candlelight, and his moans of pleasure as she worked her fingers into his muscles.

She turned and knelt next to him facing his head and spread her hands over his broad shoulders, her thumbs outlining each muscle. She worked gently up the back of his neck and massaged his scalp, running her fingers through his hair. When she finished his back she oiled her hands again and massaged his buttocks, firmly addressing every muscle group but grinning at the excuse to get her hands on his ass.

She wrapped her hands around his thigh and worked down, biting her lip as she felt the muscles bunch and then relax under her hands. Down each leg, firm in each instep and gentle on his toes. She found he was a little ticklish on his feet with a light touch.

“Ok, you can turn over to your back.” He didn’t move at first but then with groan pushed up with one arm and flipped over. She bit her lip and felt a welling of - joy? pride? That was how she felt when she was getting a good massage.

It looks like he likes it, she thought.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

“We’re only half done.” She pulled up the cover to keep him warm, got more oil, and picked up his arm, prompting him to relax until he finally stopped trying to help and let her move him. From his shoulder down, moving every muscle, working over his hand and each finger, tracing the scars and lines on his hands, finishing with long strokes down one arm, then doing the same with the other arm. She oiled up again and started on the muscles of his chest.

She worked down over his abdomen and just below his waist, just enough that she felt him tense up a bit, wondering if she was going lower. She grinned and went back up to his face, gentle fingers on forehead and cheeks, and he moaned as she worked the tension out of his jaw.

She pulled the covers up and tucked them around both of them as she cuddled up next to him. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close with a groan, but did not say a word before he drifted off to sleep. She reached up and turned down the lantern but left the candles burning. She couldn’t stop grinning and felt like her heart could burst as she cuddled up to him.

She must have fallen asleep as well, because she opened her eyes to see him on his side, looking at her. He had his soft smile, his hair was framing his face and his blue eyes were gazing into her. He didn’t say anything when he saw she was awake, just reached up and brushed her hair back, looking at her with shining eyes and a warm smile.

She was quiet too, gazing back and smiling, until she couldn’t stand it any more. “Did you like it?”

“That was amazing.”

“Good. It was fun.”

“I feel completely relaxed. How did you learn how to do that?” He trailed his hand down her arm, leaving goosebumps.

“It was a hobby for a while. I read some books. And I used to get a lot of massages.” She couldn’t stop grinning, she was so tickled at his reaction.

“You’ve had a very unique set of hobbies.”

“I told you. Ryan didn’t mind this one so much, though.” 

He laughed. “I bet.” He kissed her. “I’d like to return the favor sometime.”

She hesitated. “If you want to.”

“It would be my pleasure. But it wouldn’t be as good as that. That was . . wow.”

“I’m glad.” His hair had fallen in front of his face and she brushed it back. “I love your hair.” He smiled and kissed her again, gentle and sweet. “Mmm. What kind of kisses do you like?”

“These are just fine, sweetheart.” They were so close he barely had to move to kiss her again.

“You adapted to the kisses I like so fast, I don’t know what you like.”

“I like ‘em all.”

“Hmm. I think you like it best after you make me crazy and I’m attacking you and can’t get enough, and you’re holding my head and making me take your tongue and just tasting every part of me.” She was breathing a little faster by the time she finished her description. thinking of those kisses, and he took a deep breath too.

“Yes, ma’am, those are fine.” She laughed and pulled him over her for more kisses. After more kisses and touches that left them both breathless he eased her out of clothes and kissed down her body, and refreshed by their nap they made love until the candles started guttering out.

 


	5. Chapter 5 - Hot and Bothered when He Plays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This started out as a story about Christian Kane and sex, and turned into more. It is about identity, who we are, and who we would be without society. Who are we really without any of the roles that define us? 
> 
> But still also about lots of hot sex with the gorgeous Christian Kane. Enjoy! 
> 
> I don't own him, his music, his muscles, or the end of the world.

Christian woke slowly the next morning. He lay a few minutes, feeling the relaxation to his bones, before rolling over and looking at Amanda.

Wow, he thought. He smiled and resisted the urge to reach out and put his hand on her. He felt the need touch her, to make sure she was real, even now. From being so alone he didn’t know who he was any more, to all of a sudden he had someone to eat with, sleep with, talk with. They had only been together three or four days, and it already seemed - normal.

He was still overwhelmed by the whirlwind house tour, but she had been so excited. He had been watching her more than the features she was pointing out. He couldn’t quite picture what his life would look like now. Cooking and what, gardening? Playing chess? It was bizarre.

He couldn’t resist and reached out and brushed her hair back. And the sex - he grinned and shook his head. Holy fuck. In all the scenarios he had thought about meeting someone, he had never really considered he might meet someone like this, who needed him as much as he needed her. She came to life at his kisses and touches, meeting him wherever he was.

Even at his house - he closed his eyes against the tightness in his chest. He was still beating himself up about that. He had lost control of his temper twice, yelled at her, cursed at her, accused her of lying. And here she was, lying next to him, her breathing even, covers pulled down to show that beautiful body he had been touching last night. Other women had left him for less than that. She had pushed back about the trashed house, not taking his shit for an instant.

And when his rage drained and he realized the mistake he had made about her getting pregnant and she was still there, watching him, not angry, not afraid, not crying, just . . . being. When he had held her he had been shaking with fear that he had scared her off as much as her being pregnant. He thought of the line from his song _More Than I Deserve_ , ‘You stand your ground.’ She was tough - anyone would be, to survive this long.

 

The sun through the blinds woke her. She lay a moment, then smiled as she remembered her hands all over Christian the night before and how he had looked at her and touched her. Hmm, she thought. Only - she stopped to count - five days for her to not wake up panicked that it was a dream. She heard him move and felt him snuggle up behind her and scoop her hair out of the way to kiss her neck.

“Good morning.”

“Mmm. I love waking up like this.”

“Me too.” He kissed her again.

She turned over in his arms and he was looking at her, his gaze soft and heavy and his smile content. “Thank you for last night,” he murmured.  

“Oh, Christian, that was my pleasure. I loved getting my hands on you.” They were both naked and she moved against him, enjoying the sensation of her legs twining in his and her breasts against his chest. They were both still slick from the oil and she could smell the heady ylang ylang on both of them. His smile stayed soft but his gaze sharpened and he was hardening against her.

“You feel good.” She ran her hands down his back, cradling his buttocks and pulling him against her. She smiled as he caught his breath and she felt him move against her. Being with him and feeling how he responded to her every touch made her feel powerful and sexy.

He rolled her to her back and his weight was on her. He kissed her soft and slow until she was breathless. He lifted his head, breathing hard, and looked at her, tilting his head in question. She smiled and moved to accommodate him, and he took her, watching her as her eyes closed and her head went back as he filled her up, and it was soft and sweet and gentle and they moved together, lost in their own universe.

It was midmorning when they were rested and ready to get up. “What are you up to today?” he asked.

She sighed. “I’ve been cold so I want to get a fire going down in the parlor, but I need to get some firewood. That’s another job I hate. I’m not very good at it, either. I’m getting better, but look -” She sat up and pushed back the covers and pointed to her right calf. A long jagged scar ran down her leg.

“Holy shit.” He sat up to look closer. “Is that from cutting firewood?”

“Yeah. The ax slipped. I was lucky, it didn’t really get the muscle. It just peeled back skin. But fuck did that hurt.”

“I bet. You’re lucky it didn’t get infected.”

“I know. I had just set up my first aid kit and had some antibiotics. I got really lucky. I’m a lot more careful now.” She pulled the covers back up and lay down again.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it any more. I’ll get the firewood set up for ya.”

“No, that’s OK, I’ll . . .”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and head tilt, and she trailed off. “Amanda, are you really going to argue with me about the firewood?”

“Yes. Let’s argue about firewood.” She cuddled up against him.

“No, let’s not. I’ll get the damn firewood.” His voice was low and rough and so familiar.

She sighed. “I don’t want you to think I expect you to do all the hard jobs or all the cooking or anything just because you are here.”

He closed his eyes a moment and leaned against her. “No, darlin’, I don’t think that.”

“Ok.” There had been something else there for him about that, but she didn’t know what. “Well, if you feel like getting a fire started, I’ll get breakfast. How about pancakes?”

He grinned. “Pancakes?”

“With blueberry topping. No whipped cream, though.” She threw back the covers.

She wasn’t sure where Christian headed off to and found that she had to resist the urge to go find him. That’s ridiculous, she scolded herself. It has been five days. You did perfectly well before, you do not need to be attached to him. She didn’t usually cook for breakfast but she was hoping to impress him, she realized. She mixed up the pancake batter and set the dried blueberries simmering into sauce, and put together hot chocolate while the pancakes cooked.

She heard him from the house and went in to find him getting the fireplace set up. “Thank you - this will be so nice.” She put the plate of pancakes on TV trays in front of the fireplace and went back for the sauce, hot chocolate and mugs. “Here you go.”

“Wow. I’m starved.”

“Do you want amaretto or peppermint schnapps for your hot chocolate?” She held out the bottles.

“Ah, is that how we do it here? I’ll be right back.” He came back from the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey and spiked his drink liberally. “That does hit the spot.”

They enjoyed their meal and Amanda was surprised at how much Christian ate, laughing at how much he was complimenting her for the meal.

“Alright, already!” she finally said. “You didn’t think I could cook at all, I guess?”

His eyes got wide for a second. “No, not at all - I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just so good. I haven’t had anything like this in a long time.”

“That’s right, you probably haven’t had much bread - you don’t bake much, right?”

“I haven’t cooked at all in a while. I could make pancakes, but I didn’t bake much before. Why?”

“I just remembered from an interview you said you don’t do much with ratios and don’t bake much.”

His eyebrow was raised. “Well, that’s true, but I don’t remember talking about it on an interview.”

“Well, I love to bake and I found some good vegan cookbooks, since we don’t have eggs and butter. I’ll make you some olive oil, rosemary and lemon shortbread later.”

When they were both stuffed they moved to the loveseat in front of the now-roaring fire. She scooted next to him and he put his arm around her, pulling her close.

“This is nice. This is how we were sitting that first night.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “What, five days ago? That’s crazy.”

“It has been an intense five days.” She rested her head on his shoulder, but she felt uneasy. How long will this last? she thought. When will he disappear like everyone else?

She shook off the thought and focused on the cozy heat from the fireplace and the distracting heat from him. She still feeling warm and buzzing and tender in spots from their lovemaking. Even after all the time they had spent touching over the last five days, she was still very aware of every spot where she was pressed against him, feeling his hand stroking her shoulder and his quick kiss on her hair. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, smiling as she breathed in the scent of ylang ylang and jasmine and him.

She reached over and put her hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat, and took another breath, letting it all soak in. “I wish I could just stay in this instant forever.”

“Mmmm.” They sat in the quiet, watching the fire. Jack jumped up on Amanda’s lap and Cody curled closer to the fire.

 

Christian enjoyed the warmth of her hand on his chest and how she was leaning against him. Here he was in a nice house with a full stomach, a blazing fire, a woman in his arms, and dogs, for God’s sake, curled by the fire. It was just so bizarrely - normal. After a few minutes he started to get restless, shifting his weight and fidgeting with the fork on the plate in front of him.

“Alright,” he finally said. “What now?”

“A few things,” she replied. “I want to give you a tour of the rest of the place, and we could run to the store. Do you want some coffee?”

“Oh, hell, yeah.” He grinned. “I didn’t see any downstairs, but then when you brought out the hot chocolate I figured you don’t do coffee.”

“Yep. And work in the garden. I want to get some seeds in the ground. I’m hungry for some fresh food.”

“Alright. Sounds like you have it all under control.” Her hand stilled on his chest and he looked down to see her smile gone and her eyes distant. “Are you OK?” She didn’t reply and her gaze was focused past the fire. “Amanda, what’s wrong?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He sat up and turned to her, frowning.

“I don’t have it under control. I don’t know what I’m doing.” She looked up at him and then back at the fire. He was a little chilled at her blank expression. “I’m just trying to keep busy. You can do whatever you want.”

“What?” He bent down to look at her but she wouldn’t meet his eye. “No, I’m glad to help with the garden.” There was a sharp note of concern in his voice. “Amanda?”

Something in his tone finally registered and she seemed to come back to herself. She looked up at him. “Ok. If you want to.” She stopped and looked at his expression more closely. “What?”

“You OK?” he asked.

“You ask me that a lot. Yeah, I’m fine. You don’t have to do whatever I’m doing, though, just because we are both here.”

“I know that. Amanda . . .” he hesitated and put his head back on the loveseat, his arm still around her. “I don’t really have any need to be alone again for a while. I told you that. I’ll be glad to do whatever you’re doing. So if you need space, you need to tell me.” She was looking away again. “Ok?”

“Yeah. That’s fine.” She was staring at the fire again. She finally shook her head. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what to do now. I think it is like a fantasy that you’re here. I still don’t quite believe it.”

He took a deep breath. “I do not know how to help you with that, sweetheart. When you figure out what you want, let me know, I guess.”

“OK. Is there anything you want to do right now?”

He considered. “I haven’t played any music in a few days. I might get out my guitar.”

She sat up straight and he looked at her, startled. “Really? Do you want company? Can I listen?”

“Sure.” He grinned at her excitement. He took her hand and stood up. “Come on, let’s go make some music.” They headed down the hall to the music room.

 

Amanda felt excitement bubbling and bit her lip. I can’t believe it, she thought. The drapes were all pulled back and it was almost mid-day so the room was flooded with light. She sat on the green and gold sofa while he got out his guitar and tuned it.

He looked up and grinned. “You look like a kid at a birthday party.” She realized she was at the edge of her seat, hands clasped in her lap, smiling from ear to ear.

“I’m so excited.”

“OK. Any requests?”

“Oh my God. Um - _Permanent 99_?”

“Huh.” He strummed a chord. “That’s been a while.” He plucked a few notes. “Let’s see .. “

She started singing softly, “Sweat drop on the end of your nose, make you lose your mind and lose your clothes . . .”

“Ah, that’s right.” He started again and she just took it in, watching him. He picked through it a few times, singing softly to himself and remembering more lyrics each time. When he was satisfied he nodded at her and started from the beginning. She took in how he closed his eyes and leaned into the song, flipping his hair back. She felt like her heart would burst.

When he got to the refrain she sang along, softly at first but when he grinned and winked at her she sang a little louder.

 

We're hot and sticky as we can get,

Don't need to take a swim to be soakin' wet,

You lean in and you bite my lip,

It's hard to be cool in heat like this.

 

Sweat drop at the end of your nose,

Makes you lose your mind and lose your clothes,

Let's kiss right here,

Why go inside,

Baby we're set to a permanent 99.

 

He sang the chorus again and she was hot and flushed. She fanned her face, watching him, noticing everything about him, noticing his hands moving on the strings, how he put his chin up on certain lines, his hair sweeping over his face. He grinned at her as he sang, ended with a flourish and took off the guitar.

“Did you like that, darlin’?”

She caught her breath with a gasp. “Yeah, a little.”

He grinned again, that slow sexy grin, lowered his head and held her gaze as he came towards her. “It’s nice to have an audience again.”

“I love that song. It is so hot.”

He tilted his head. “Is it?”

“Yeah. I never, um, saw you play it before. There weren’t any concert videos.” He was right next to her now but he kept coming, putting his hands on either side of her head and coming in for a kiss. Her mouth was open, and he gently bit her lower lip and she his tongue tickled her lip and then explored, sliding in and tasting her, teasing the corner of her mouth and teasing her tongue back into his.

He still kept moving, his body pressing against hers, leaning her back. She put her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to him, sucking on his tongue and nibbling his lip. tasting him as he was her. She slid her hands under his shirt, pushing it up and running her hands up over his chest.

He stopped for just a second, pulled his shirt off and held her face again, kissing her. He put his hands on her back and slid her down to lay on the sofa, but it wasn’t really wide enough for both of them. He sat up and looked around, one hand in his hair, breathing hard, while she ran her hands over his chest. He scooped her up, took a step and knelt down, laying her on a plush rug in front of the sofa. “This OK?” he murmured against her neck.            

“Oh yeah.”

He settled next to her, looking down at her, his body pressed against her. “Do you know the words to all my songs?” he asked softly.

“Probably.”

He slid his hand under her shirt, moving it up. “I really liked watching you sing that with me,” he said.

“I love that song.” She gasped when his hand found her breast.

“Are you gonna get this hot and bothered every time I play for you?”

“Ooh - maybe.” She pulled his head down and bit his lower lip and then sucked it into her mouth, then opened to his tongue while his hand pushed her shirt out of the way and then he was easing her pants and panties down over her hips.

She reached down and felt how hard he was through the denim. “Wow. We just did it this morning.”

“Is that a problem?” His voice was low and as rough as sandpaper as he shifted her and got the shirt up and the pants down and she was naked under him.

“Absolutely not.”

“Goddammit, I gotta quit wearing jeans.” He rolled aside and got his button undone, and she got up on her knees in front of him.

“Let me help.” She saw how his eyes were riveted on her body and he swallowed hard as she moved up close to him, pulling his hands aside and brushing his chest with her breasts. He was up on his knees and she kissed down his chest, undid the zipper and slid the jeans down, kissing as she went, tasting the salty skin and oil. She looked up and his body was rigid and his head was back. She ran her hands up over his chest and then back to the waistband, inching it lower, and she felt him quivering.

She slid the jeans down over his ass and he was in front of her, huge and hard. She licked him and he moaned and she felt his body sway.

“Jesus. Let me get out of these jeans,” he groaned but she tasted him again, filling her mouth and stroking him with her tongue. He grabbed her shoulders to steady himself. “Amanda . . .”

She finally sat up, grinning and breathing hard, and he was out of the rest of his clothes and had her back on the carpet and his weight on her and was kissing her hard, not harsh and hurtful but firm and thorough, tasting, licking.

He kissed down to her neck and she whispered in his ear, “Can I do that some more?”

“Oh fuck.” His breath caught at her words and with a nudge from her he rolled to his back. She ran her hands down his body and knelt between his legs. She touched him gently, holding him in her hand and stroking her cheek with it, kissing up the shaft and stroking the underside with her tongue, moaning as she tasted him.

She slid her mouth over the head, sucking hard for a second, hearing his sharp intake of breath, and then letting him slide all over her mouth, over and under her tongue. She enjoyed the feel and taste of him and the quiver of his taut muscles under her hands.

When he started to move against her, his hand resting on her head, she gave one final kiss and moved up next to him, tugging on his shoulder to pull him over on her, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him close. He looked in her eyes as he entered her, watching her gasp and feeling her body arch.

“Jesus, so wet,” he murmured and was moving, filling her up. The world was his eyes, his hands, his body in her and they both exploded.

 

He was flat on his back on the carpet and she was cuddled up on his chest as they both recovered. She ran her hands over him.

“How long do you think we’ll be doing it twice a day?” she asked.

“I dunno.” He turned on his side and looked at her, his blue eyes soft and warm. He kissed her and her lips felt swollen and tingling. “I can’t believe how ready you are for me every time.”

“I can’t believe how hot you make me. Those kisses.”

He smiled and kissed her again, gently. “So is that what will happen every time I play for you?”

“I dunno. Maybe. I did a lot of fantasizing while I listened to your music.” She reached up and touched his face. “I really like that you always stop to check if it’s OK right before.”

He smiled, but looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Every time, I think, right before you move inside me, you stop and look at me and make sure. I can’t imagine I’d ever say no at that point, but I like it.”

He smiled, but still had a crease in his forehead. “Oh. OK. Sure.”

She half sat up. “What a minute - do you not know you do that?”

“No, sure I do.”

“No, you don’t! Wow.” She lay down and cuddled again, grinning. “Wow. I don’t know what to think about that.” She hugged him. “You are such a sweet guy.”

“I dunno, darlin’.”

“I wonder if you did that with everyone.”

“Everyone, huh? How many do you think there were?” His eyebrow was raised but his he had that mischievous half-smile.

“Well, we know you dated Linda and Whitney and Sophia . . “

“‘We?’” He got up on an elbow and looked at her.

“The Kaniacs. You think we didn’t try to keep track of who you dated? At every con question and answer session someone asked if you were seeing anyone.”

“Huh.”

He wasn’t mad, but he was have some kind of reaction. She couldn’t quite tell what. “You somehow managed to have a very private personal life, though. There were rumors of you bringing girls home from concerts, but remarkably few solid stories.”

“Good. That’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” He lay back again, his hand under his head. She thought about asking who and how many, but realized it didn’t matter. All that had happened before in a different life that would never come back. “Wait -” He turned to look at her again. “You went searching for who I dated?”

“Maybe,” she said. He shook his head. “Are you mad?”

“Nah. It’s just weird.” She grinned and decided not to ask if he knew about the fanfiction.

 

They finally got up and dressed by early afternoon. He picked up his guitar again and she curled up on the sofa, enjoying her private concert. She tried to take in everything as he played, every move and every sound. She was tickled when she realized he was watching for her reaction to every song. It was probably hard being a performer without an audience, she thought. He played several songs from his album and then asked, “What else do you want to hear?”

“This is amazing. Um - _Rattlesnake Smile_?”

He played the first few chords and said, “I don’t think I’m up to that one right now.”

“Would _Different Kind of Knight_ be OK?” she asked. “Or _Happy Man_.”

“That I can do.” He grinned when she sang along.

 

Well toss me out of the plane,

Watch me fall to the ground,

No I don't care

If my body ever gets found,

The way you're lovin' me baby,

I can die a happy man.

 

Now that I've tasted all your squeezin' and a touchin'

Baby there ain't nothing I'd miss.

There ain't no reason now for me to go on living

Only heaven could be better than this.

 

He finally shook out his hand and put the guitar away. “I haven’t played that much in a while.” He grinned at her. “It’s a whole different experience with an appreciative audience.”

“That was amazing. I still have to pinch myself. I’ve only gotten to see you play live once before, at the Wizard World con. I was always sorry I missed the Viper Room and Dante’s days.”

He came and sat by her on the sofa and she cuddled up against his chest with his arm around her. “I forget that you know everything about me.”

“Not everything. Only stuff on the web.”

 “Well, that’s a whole hell of a lot.”

She laid her head on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. After a few minutes she asked, “Now what?”

He laughed. “You’re asking me? How the hell would I know?” He looked around. “If you don’t want help with whatever you’re doing, I’m gonna check this stuff out. I’m kinda stoked about these drums.”

“Ok.” Now all she wanted to do was stay and listen and play drums with him. “Have fun.” She started to get up.

“Wait.” He kept his arm around her and she settled back and looked at him. “What are you up to?”

“Garden, probably, or go for a walk or read a book.”

He looked at her, head lowered, holding her gaze. “Ok,” he said softly. “Have fun.”

She swallowed and her heartbeat sped up. “Um, yeah.”

He smiled and leaned forward and kissed her and she gave him a squeeze and finally got up. She heard him going through the instruments as she left.

 

You couldn’t really tell from TV and movies, she thought as she headed down the stairs, because they were actors and it was part of the script. But she had seen it in interviews - he would turn to the female interviewer, lower his head and look at her, put her in the spotlight of his intense blue eyes and sexy smile and soft words, and the young lady from some local talk show would get flustered. She would lose her place or stumble over words before finding her composure and moving on. His full attention was a powerful thing. Does he know he’s doing it, she thought? Does he think he has to charm me, or is it just automatic?

She headed outside - it was a beautiful afternoon. She pulled the mulch back from the beds, pulled up any weeds that had started, and separated out the sprouted garlic. She grinned as she thought of Christian cooking for her, and how excited he was about the fresh garlic.

She enjoyed the work and it felt good to be in the sun, and for once she wasn’t trying to stretch the job out and worried about what she would do next. She could keep busy and there would be something new right around the corner. She felt a shiver as she heard again his music in her mind and pictured how he looked at her.

The next job was nasty but necessary - take care of the spoiled potatoes from the root cellar. She spread out paper on the patio, hauled up the basket of potatoes, and dumped them out. She was just starting to sort them out when she heard footsteps.

“Hey.”

“Hey, you.” She looked up at him and smiled. He looked good in the snug black T-shirt. His hair was tied back out of the way. “What have you been up to?”

“I messed with the drums, then explored the house and took a nap.” He sat down next to her on the patio.

“That sounds nice. I cleared off the garden beds and planted garlic, and now I’m sorting rotten potatoes.”

“You coulda got me. I’d be glad to help.” He was sitting up next to her, his leg against hers. She turned to look at him. She took in the crinkle around his intense blue eyes as he smiled at her, his hair, his broad shoulders, how he looked at her, and the heat she felt from him where he leaned against her. His smile was wide and relaxed and so familiar.

Unless her whole life now was a dream, she was willing to accept this was real, as long as she didn’t think about how it could be. She felt like her life had been empty, drained of all color, for years. And now he filled it up again.

“What?” He tilted his head and looked at her with that little grin.

She shrugged and looked down. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” He squeezed her hand. “Ok, what are we up to here?”

“Well, the rotten potatoes and shredded paper go in the compost. But the potatoes that are still good might smell weird and have an off taste from being stored with the bad ones. So these -” she held up one - “are seed potatoes. We’ll dig up the whole bed over there for eating, and plant these.” She pulled out some of the biggest ones that didn’t seem affected and put those aside for eating.

He started working at the mess in front of them. “How did you learn about this? One of your books?”

“No, I grew up on a farm. A little farm, just garden and chickens and rabbits.” She showed him how to cut the seed potatoes so they had a couple of eyes each and set them to cure on a shady porch. “You had a ranch in Oklahoma, right? Your family didn’t garden?”

“Naw, my folks didn’t settle there til I was older. I didn’t really have much to do with it.” As they finished he stood up and stretched. “Alright. sweetheart. You gettin’ hungry?”

“A little. You don’t have to cook every meal, though.”

“I want to. I’ll start trading with ya when I get tired of it. Any requests?”

“Surprise me.”

She finished up she went in and met Christian coming upstairs from the pantry. His arms were full. “Hey. Do you want me to check before I use stuff, or. . .”

“No, go right ahead and use whatever you want.”

“Great.” He put the food on the kitchen counter. “Do you have any dried mushrooms?”

“Yep.” She led him back downstairs and pointed out five huge plastic jars on the bottom shelf, all half to almost full of dried mushrooms - oyster, porcini, tree ear, shiitake, and chanterelles. “From Whole Foods, in the bulk foods section. I just took the whole jar.”

“Wow - perfect.” He grabbed the porcini jar and followed her up the stairs.

    She cleaned up and joined Christian. He had made curried fried rice with beef jerky, almonds, and porcini mushrooms and a fruit salad with canned pineapple, mandarins, coconut and ginger.

This is amazing. I knew that jerky would come in handy.”

“I let that soak in boiling water, get it nice and soft. It took a while, but it worked out. I used some of your carrots - I gotta be honest with ya, I did not realize how much I missed fresh food.”

She enjoyed the meal and his enthusiasm as he described every step of the preparation. After they cleaned up he helped her carry up a big cooler from the basement. She opened it up and picked up a notebook. “Here are all the seeds we have. What do you want to grow this year?”

They spent an enjoyable couple of hours sorting through the dozens of kinds of seeds. “You don’t have to choose which one for the winter squash - I do a three sisters garden in front of the fountain with squash, corn, and beans, and I can use them all.”

“Three sisters? An Indian garden?” He grinned. “How did you know about that?”

“I’m a gardener. Are you sure you want six kinds of tomatoes, though?”

 He picked up the list and looked at it again. “Is that too many? I’m not sure which to leave out.”

“We can do them all, but we’ll need to build more beds. And if we grow more than we can use we can sun-dry them.” By the time they got it all sorted out and got the garden beds planned it was starting to get dark. Amanda stood up and stretched. “That was a busy day. I want to read for a while, and then go to bed.”

He stepped toward her. “You know what I want?”

She smiled as he pulled her into his arms. “What do you want?”

“I want to give you a massage tonight.”

“Mmm.” She arched her back and pressed against him. “I would like that a lot.”

“Good. Now I can get my hands on you.”

 

He sent her up to bed with instructions to “undress to her comfort level.” She lit the candles and lay naked under the covers, feeling her body tingle with anticipation. He came in a few moments later. “Do you want the same oil you used? I found a couple of others.” He held them up.

“The same one is fine.” She smiled as he came to the bed. He had taken off his shirt and was wearing shorts. “Mmm,” She said. “I can’t wait.”

He sat next to her on the bed and reached out to touch her face. She returned his smile and turned over to her front, pushing the pillow out of the way.

“I used to get massages every month. I miss it.” She felt a cool breeze as he pulled the cover down to her waist, and then warmth as his broad hands moved on her back. She could smell the ylang ylang and it felt good to have him touch her, but given how sure he was in lovemaking, she was surprised at how tentative his touch was.

“You can go a little firmer if you want,” she murmured. He started moving again, leaning in this time. She felt herself relax as her muscles shifted under his hands. “Mmmm, that’s nice.” He worked his way to her shoulders and then down over her ass and legs, becoming more sure in response to her moans.

When she turned over and he was working his way down her body, she kept her eyes open a bit so she could watch him. His face was serious and eyes focused on her in the flickering candlelight and she watched the play of muscles in his arms and chest as he moved over her.

He caught her eye and smiled, a slow sexy grin. “Is this OK?”

“Mmm, it’s wonderful.”

He pulled the covers up over them and lay next to her with his arms around her and kissed her as she drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6 - You Aren't Alone Any More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is the difference between anger and fear? What do you feel if you refuse to feel fear? 
> 
> I don't own Christian Kane, his songs, how he is in his own world with his music, or way he flips his hair back out of his face. I did write Broken.

Again, Christian found himself awake before her. He lay in the early light, his eyes tracing the curve of her neck and shoulder and the swell of her breast under the covers. Before he met her a few days ago, he was drinking so heavily at night just to get to sleep that it might be afternoon before he woke.

After giving her a massage last night, he now understood why that was the first thing she had asked for. His hands all over her, just the basic human contact aside from how sexy she was, had been amazing.

He thought of how she reacted to his music and a warmth spread through him. Her soul was in her eyes when he played for her and when he touched her. It was as if she didn’t protect herself at all with him, and it scared him. His chest tightened as it did every time he remembered what she said their first day together. ‘I wouldn’t have been like this with anyone else. I would have been more careful and wouldn’t have let him touch me if it was anyone but you.’ How was he supposed to live up to that?

He realized how badly he could hurt her if this went bad. He set his jaw. No, he thought. We got this far. She doesn’t scare that easy. I can do this. I can hold it in. He took a deep breath and he softened to a smile as he looked at her.

I have to, he thought.

 

She woke to blue eyes and a soft grin. He was propped on one elbow watching her. “Good morning,” he said softly.

“Mmmm.” She stretched. “That was really nice.”

“I’m glad.” He reached over and brushed her hair back, trailing his hand over her cheek and down across her shoulder and scooting closer to slip an arm around her.

“I’m still so relaxed I feel like my bones melted,” she said.

He kissed her nose. “Any plans for today?”

“I want to show you the rest of the place, and then let’s go shopping. And I’m cooking dinner tonight.”

“What are we having?”

“It’s a surprise.” 

After cuddling for a few more minutes they got dressed, grabbed a quick breakfast, fed the dogs and she took him around the house. He had already found a lot, the servants’ rooms and back stairs and storage, in his explorations. She took him through the dusty tunnels to the two cottages and carriage house.

“I’ve hardly been out here,” she said of the cottages. “No need to - there’s more space than I need in the house.” He was very interested in the carriage house, which was also a garage, storage, and workshop. They finally headed out, Christian driving in the truck. She directed him to a nearby grocery store.

“It’s not the closest one,” she said. “I was saving the one in walking distance for when the cars stopped working.”

“You’ve put some thought into this.” He stopped to look at a white poster board on the door. “What’s this?”

“That’s me. I put signs up to see if anyone else was left.” In big block letters it said, ‘I am still alive! Write where you are, I will check back.’ It had a list of dates for a year or so after the collapse and a marker taped to the board. “The dates are so someone would know I was still alive and checking. I put these up all over.”

He reached out and took her hand as they went in the store. She put a big lantern in each cart and sent him off to get coffee while she loaded the truck with toilet paper, paper towels, jugs of water and other basics. They wandered the store together and discussed recipes and meals while loading up. If he choose an item, she scooped the rest from the shelf and dropped them in the cart.

He looked at the twelve cans of artichoke hearts. “Do we need that much?”

“Might as well stock up. It’s just another trip if we leave them here. Plus,” she said, “there’s no refrigeration. If I open something and don’t use it in a day or so I pitch it. So far, so good - I’ve only gotten food poisoning once!”

Next they hit Home Depot, with another of her signs on the door, and he went to pick out some axes, splitting wedges and a saw while she picked out the supplies to make new garden beds.

“To be honest with ya,” he said, “the ax you have is really shitty, and you aren’t supposed to use an ax to split wood. You need a splitting maul. I don’t know how you didn’t get hurt worse than you did.”

He caught up with her in the gardening department where she was struggling to get some eight foot 6x6 treated landscape timbers onto a cart.

“Goddamit.” She jumped at his hard voice behind her. “I am right here. You can’t ask for help?” He moved her aside and loaded up the ones she had out. “How many do you need?” he asked brusquely.

“Um, for three more beds, we need nine.”

He got a few more on the cart and turned to her. “I’m going to pull the truck up. You don’t touch them, do you hear me?” His eyes were narrow and his jaw was tight - he was genuinely angry.

“Um, sure. Thank you.” She felt bemused by his reaction.

He shot her a hard look and left, pulling up a few moments later with the truck. He loaded the lumber and said, “What else do you need?” She pointed out the topsoil and bagged compost she wanted and he loaded it up and turned to face her.

“Do you know that I am fucking here?” His voice was low and hard. “Except for sex you keep shutting me out, and I have to argue with you to do anything. You aren’t alone anymore, Amanda. You could start acting like it.”

She felt herself go cold and heard herself say, “I’m sorry.” She stood there a moment, watching him. “I didn’t know I was doing that. I just don’t want to assume, or for you to feel like I’m being bossy.”

“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. Asking for help is not being bossy.”

“Ok.” You can take care of yourself, she thought. So can I.

He glared at her another moment, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he looked at her again his expression and body had softened. He sighed and stepped to her, wrapping her against against his chest.

“I'm sorry, darlin'. I just don't want you to hurt yourself. I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly.

You can’t promise me that, she thought, but just nodded. He smiled at her, that half-grin, and kissed her, soft and sweet. She sighed and leaned against him.

“OK, bossy,” he said. She looked up quickly, but he was grinning at her. “What next?”

“A couple of tanks of propane for the grill.” He pulled around to the front to load them up; when she stepped forward to help he shot her a look. She felt a chill and stepped back.

I’ve been getting it myself for three years, she thought, but stood and watched as he loaded the truck. She directed him next to Bed Bath and Beyond for baskets, candles, fancy bath stuff and fuzzy blankets.

“Don’t we have enough blankets?” he asked as they loaded them in the truck.

“You can never have enough blankets. Let’s see -” She looked around at the stores surrounding them. “I need clothes, especially underwear. Let’s try Target.”

When they got to the store he stopped to look at her poster board sign on the door. “I didn’t think to do that, but I wasn’t really staying in one place,” he said. They got to the women’s section first and she set her lantern on top of a rack of clothes.

He started to walk on to the men’s section, but did a double take and stopped when he saw her strip off her clothes in the aisle to try on a dress. He crossed his arms and leaned against a shelf and watched, grinning. “We might as well shop together. I’ll wait for ya.”

She pulled the dress off over her head, dropped it on the ground, and started checking the sizes on another rack, wearing only panties. She looked over at him and grinned. “Enjoying the show?” She picked out another dress and pulled it on.

“Yes, ma’am.” She loaded up the cart and followed him to the men’s section. She pretended to pout when he said he didn’t need to try anything on.

“I know what size I am,” he said, grinning.

He was flipping through a rack of jeans when she sidled up to him. “Hey.” She slid between him and the rack and started toying with the button on his waistband. “Did you say you wanted to get something other than jeans? Maybe something easier to get out of?” She undid the button and slid her hand against the skin on his stomach and down just a little.

He caught his breath. “Um, sure. Good idea.” He caught her hips and pulled her against him.

“Mmmm.” She grinned at him and slipped out of his reach. “Let’s see what they have.”

He growled but was grinning as they flipped through the casual wear. “What the hell are these? Joggers?”

“Like sweatpants, but a little more tailored, it looks like.”

“Ok, these I better try on.” He kicked off his boots and pulled down his jeans.

“Yay!” Amanda leaned against a waist-high shelf with arms crossed and watched, imitating his posture from earlier.

“These’ll do.” He threw a stack into the cart.

“Are you sure you don’t need to try on any shirts?”

“Hmmm.” He looked over to see her wide grin and her bottom lip caught in her teeth. “Maybe.” He pulled his T-shirt off and walked over to her, putting his feet on either side of hers and pinning her against the shelf.

“Ohhh.” She rested her head on his bare chest and ran her hands down over his stomach and around to his back, feeling the muscles flex as he shifted his weight against her. “I think this is my second favorite spot in the world.”

“Mmm. And what’s your first favorite spot?” He brushed her hair back and kissed her neck and she gasped.

“Under you, with you inside me,” she murmured against his ear.

She felt the sharp intake of breath against her neck. “Jesus.”

“Oh, you couldn’t tell?” He raised his head and she kissed down his neck, teasing with her tongue and nibbling on him.

“Maybe we should do something about that.” He grabbed the sundress and pulled it off over her head, wrapped his hands in her hair and kissed her, pulling her against him, teasing and tasting, sucking on her lip and nibbling until she moaned and pushed back against him.

“They have a bedding department,” she said breathlessly.

“They also have this shelf right here.” He ran his hands over her ass, slipping her panties down until she could kick them off, then boosted her until she was sitting on the shelf.

“Oh my God.” She slipped her hands into his waistband and slid down his pants and underwear. “Oh, that’s much better.”

She pushed them down as far as she could and reached up with her foot while he supported her and pulled them down the rest of the way until he could step out and they were both nude against the shelf in the lantern light.

He stepped back up against her and she wrapped her legs around him, and he looked at her as he grabbed her hips and guided himself in. Her head went back and her eyes closed as he filled her up. He moved against her as she clung to him, her legs pulling him close and little whimpering cries from her bringing him closer with every stroke. He had one hand on her back, holding her tight, and the other braced on the shelf as he climaxed and she felt the shaking through his whole body. He collapsed against her and she held him close.

“Oh my God. That was amazing.” She stroked his hair and kissed him.

He was still breathing hard. “I need to sit down.” He sat next to her on the shelf, leaning against her.

“You just fill up all my senses. I love it.”

“Mmm.” He nuzzled her hair and rested his head on her shoulder. “Wow.”

“I’m glad you needed to try on shirts.”

After he recovered and they got dressed, and he pulled together a vegetable and chicken salad from the canned goods as she browsed through the home goods and set up a table for them to eat. Every time he looked up from his food she was smiling at him.

“What?” he finally asked.

“You are so cute. I love looking at you.” Her grin widened. “And that was so much fun. I loved it.”

He laughed a little and looked down. “Me too, darlin’.” He shook his head. “You are something else. OK, what next?”

“One more stop, unless there is something you need.”

They got everything loaded up and she directed him to a broken down strip mall a few minutes away. He raised his eyebrow as they pulled in. “What in the hell are we getting here?”

“State liquor store! I can get wine anywhere, but I thought you might want to stock up on the hard stuff while we’re out.”

He grinned. “You are a very thoughtful woman.” She followed him in and helped him load up cases of whiskey and other alcohol. She grabbed an extra case of amaretto and some peppermint and peach schnapps for herself.

She noticed him watching her as she came out with another case of scotch for him. “What?”

“You don’t mind this?” He waved his hand at the cases of booze in the truck.

“Mind what?”

“Me drinking.”

“It’s not really my business. I’m not going to tell you what you can and can’t do.”

“Huh.” He closed the tailgate. “But do you mind?” he asked again.

“No, Christian. I don’t care. If you get obnoxious when you’re drunk we’ll deal with that, but I don’t care what you drink.” She saw his brow furrow. “What?”

“I guess I’ve never been with someone who truly has no opinion on the matter. Most women I’ve been with have had strong thoughts on how much I was drinking.”

“Well, I’m not them and this isn’t then, is it?”

“No, ma’am, it is not.”

 

Christian couldn’t stop grinning on the way back to the house. The sex on the shelf at Target had been unexpected and delightful. His smile faded, though, and he shot a quick glance at Amanda on the seat next to him when he thought of the scene at Home Depot. He didn’t know why he reacted so strongly, his heart pounding and chest tight, when he saw her wrestling those damn timbers. Again, she barely seemed to notice an outburst that would have caught him hell from other women. He better get it together, though, before he blew it.

Back at Laurel Court they unloaded the truck and then he went out to split some firewood with his new splitting maul. He came in with an arm of wood to find her wrist deep in flour and dough. “What are you up to?”

“Making bread for dinner.”

“Are you kidding me?” He carried the wood into the parlor and dropped it by the fireplace. When he came back out to the porch he stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I haven’t had bread for years.”

“Yep.” She formed the loaf, folding it under on itself until it was rounded and oblong, put it on a small cookie sheet, then took a knife and put a slash in the top. She put it aside and covered it with a dishtowel. She put her arms over his around her waist and leaned back on him.

“If you hang out over there a few minutes,” she said, indicating the chair next to the table, “I’ll get one more thing started.”

He kissed her neck and went and sat down. She rummaged through the supplies and opened up a box.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“A solar oven. I’ll be right back.” She unfolded the flaps as she went out to the patio and he watched her set it up through the french doors. She came in, checked a cookbook and started mixing, adding flour, powdered sugar, and olive oil to a big bowl.

“What are you making?” he finally asked.

“Olive oil shortbread with rosemary and lemon.”

“Wow. That sounds great.”

“It’s really good.” He got up and followed her out to the patio to put it in the solar oven, adjusting it toward the sun. “This thing is best for stuff that doesn’t have to get really hot, like 300 degrees. Works great for this.” She brushed off her hands and turned to him. “All done. I’ll start the rest of dinner in a few hours. I’m all yours.”

“Mmm, I like that.” His voice was rough as he grabbed her ass and pulled her up against him.

She put her arms around his neck and pushed her hips against him. “I really liked that at Target. I don’t think I’ve ever done that.”

He laughed. “What, out in a store or standing up?”

“You holding me like that. It felt really different. I’d never done that.” She arched her back, holding his gaze and biting her lip.

“Never?” He raised his eyebrow. “Huh. I don’t know about that Ryan of yours.”

She frowned and got very still and her gaze shifted away, her eyes distant. He gritted his teeth and mentally cursed himself, then leaned forward to kiss her, moving his lips against hers, soft and open and tasting, trying to bring her back from where ever she went. She accepted his kisses but didn’t respond. He stopped and pulled her close. Her heart was beating fast against him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was way out of line.”

“That’s OK,” she said but did not move, did not look up at him or bury her head on his chest or rest to hear his heartbeat, all the ways, he realized, she tried to get closer to him every time they touched.

“No, it’s not.” He held her, stroking her hair, and finally felt her come back to life and move to lay her head on him and lean against him.

He took a deep breath. If she doesn’t want to talk about Ryan, he thought, that is fine with me. It scared him when she went away like that and he wondered if she even knew. He was afraid to ask.

“This is nice,” she said, cuddled up against him. She pulled back. “I’m gonna go gather up some salad. Why don’t you come with me, I’ll show you around the yard some more.”

“Sure,” he said, but gritted his teeth in frustration after she turned away. He was pretty sure she had been about to jump him right there and he had ruined it with his stupid comment.

 

Amanda led him around the yard, pointing out the rhubarb coming up, and the strawberries, horseradish, peppermint and spearmint. One of the first things she had done when she realized what had happened was stop at every nursery and garden store she passed as she searched for people, rescuing seeds and what plants she could, especially perennial food plants.

“The blackberries didn’t make it, but we’ll get some raspberries and blueberries.” She showed him the orchard she was trying to start. At the grocery stores she had salvaged seeds of every fruit she could and was now trying to get the apples, plums, apricots, and other seed and stone fruits to grow. She had several two-year-old trees about a foot high that she was very proud of.

“You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, growing food,” he said.

She shrugged. “ I figure I don’t want to be eating ten year old canned food a few years from now. It’ll last a while yet, but every year I try to get something else started.”

He bent over to look at one of the baby trees. “I guess I assumed I wouldn’t be around long enough to worry about it.”

“I know. But, here we are. Gives me something to do, anyway.” They got to the edge of the tiny orchard and turned and started back toward the house.

“Wait - what is that?”

She turned to see him looking at a pile of branches about six feet high, twined around with grapevine and with several dead branches sticking off at odd angles. There was a hollow space in the middle, almost like a nest on its side.

“Oh - I started off just stacking branches out of the way, but I thought some of them looked kind of interesting so I tried to make something. If you look from this side, you can kind of see her profile.” She led him around the to the side and pointed out the grapevine hair and branches wedged to give the suggestion of a nose and chin on a six-foot head. “I thought it would be fun to make the other side look like something different, like a bird or something. I didn’t get it figured out but it kept me busy for a couple of weeks.”

“Huh.” He walked around the stack, and pointed to where a large branch had been cantilevered against a hidden, smaller one to look like it was floating. “That’s clever. What had you think of this?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “I just kept trying stuff. Entertained and distracted, remember? Anything to stay busy.”

He helped her gather the salad and they planted some vegetable seeds in the cleaned out beds. They returned to the house and he hung around and chatted and watched as she cleaned and roasted a spaghetti squash, saving the seeds.

She baked the bread in the gas grill and made a thick, hearty pasta sauce out of canned tomatoes, dried mushrooms and vegetables to go with the squash. She set out some olive oil with ground pepper for the bread and Christian ate over half the loaf and almost half of the cookies.

“This is amazing,” he said. “I guess I should have learned to bake.”

She shook her head and grinned when he again could not stop exclaiming over the meal. “Didn’t you ever have anyone cook for you, before?” she asked. 

“Nah, unless we were going out I usually cooked. I enjoyed it.”

“I do too, and you are fun to cook for.”

It was early yet when they cleaned up dinner. “You know what I haven’t done for a few days -” Amanda got some dog treats and a clicker from a basket and called the dogs. They came running from different corners of the house.

“I’ve been trying to work with them. It would be so fun if they were really well trained. How are my good boys? Are you good for mommy?” He grinned at the cooing baby talk she used with the dogs. She showed Christian their repertoire, all the basic commands and a few extra like ‘dance’, where they would get on their hind legs, and ‘hide’, which prompted both dogs to run behind a piece of furniture and then peek out around the corner until she said ‘OK’.

“That’s cute!” Christian said.

“That was by accident - I don’t even remember how it started. That’s my favorite, though.” He sat and watched as she worked with them on some more complicated tricks like backing up or circle around. “How much training can you do with wolf hybrids? Did you work with them much?” she asked.

“Hell yeah. Those are really smart animals. Depends on how much wolf is in ‘em as to how hard it is to get ‘em trained.” He grinned. “Can’t use them as herders, though. They can’t help but go after the stock once they get started.”

She finished up with the dogs and got a book to read as they settled in the parlor for the evening, but it sat unopened when he brought his guitar down and started playing. As he tuned the guitar she went to the kitchen and came back with a bottle each of wine and whiskey and held them up to Christian. He grinned and nodded at the whiskey. She got them both drinks and cuddled up on the sofa under a blanket with her wine and watched him play.

“Any requests?”

“No, I’m happy no matter what you play.”

He strummed and sang quietly, trying different chords, and it emerged into something she recognized, _Something’s Gotta Give._

 

Busted hands and broken land,

And black gold turned to sand,

The whiskey's the only well that's running deep.

Yeah the dust devils dancin' on the mesa again

At the mercy of that west Texas wind,

And the tumbleweeds, well, they seem to know more than me.

Yeah they always find their way right out of town

They never turn back,

They keep on rollin' and they don't slow down.

 

I've been sittin' on the fence for way too long

Warming that bench as chance moves on

And believe me, that ain't no way to live.

And this barely gettin' by is really gettin' old

And it's hard to turn a wrench on a rusty bolt

But someday something's gotta give.

 

She couldn’t help but sing along but she did it quietly so she wouldn’t miss a second of his voice. There was something different in the song this time - she could hear some of the pain and loneliness of the last few years and pulled the blanket up against some shivers. His voice had stayed just as beautiful but had gotten deeper and richer.

He started playing a little faster into something that started to sound like _Seven Days,_ but it changed and he was just rocking on the acoustic guitar in the candlelight, eyes closed, his head moving to his own beat. She watched his face, lost in his own world with his music. She had seen hints of it in concert videos and pictures, but never like this. Her heart pounded in time to the swelling music. Then it shifted; it still rocked just as hard but he had shifted to a minor key and there was a deeper, darker note underneath.

He stopped playing and laid his hand on the strings and in the sudden silence she could hear his breathing. She found that she had been holding her own breath and let it out.

“That was amazing,” she whispered.

“Thanks.” He leaned over his guitar and picked out some notes. “I’ll be honest with ya, I miss the electric.”

She watched his hands for a few minutes as he picked through several different melodies, some familiar, most not. “Have you written any new music?”

He was quiet a moment. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath and sat up, adjusting the strap and strumming a chord.

“You don’t have to,” she said quickly.

“I know.” He began playing again, humming at first with the haunting melody.

 

Broken street lights

Broken homes

A broken world I find I’m in

A broken mind

And a broken heart

Broken when everything’s blown apart

 

You reach and you reach but there’s nothing there

I never really knew lonely before

I search again and I thought I saw

But they’re gone

Like the smoke on the wind.

 

Broken bottles

Broken chairs

I play for myself now, what’s the part

Broken promises

Broken lives

I’m a broken man now with a broken heart.

 

She realized she was crying and there was a tightness in her chest that made it hard to breathe. The last note faded away and he sat with his eyes closed. He finally put the guitar aside and looked up at her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I thought no one would ever hear that.” He came and sat down next to her and she put her arms around him.

She wiped at her tears. “This is why I’ve been afraid to write. What was I going to do here by myself feeling this? I don’t know how you did it.”

“I was feeling it anyway. It never stopped, unless I drank enough.”

“How did you survive?”

“I surely do not know.” He tightened his hold on her. “But I do know that I couldn’t do it again.”

 


	7. Chapter 7 - Where Did Everyone Go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you find a new normal when there is no normal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Christian Kane or his music or anything. I also do not own kisses, potatoes, or hammocks. I did write the Wildfire snippet.

 

The sun was already bright when she woke the next morning. She had had several glasses of wine and he had had a whole lot more whiskey, so she wasn’t surprised he was still sound asleep. She had started getting tipsy by the third glass of wine, but he seemed looser and happier but otherwise unaffected by the half a bottle of scotch he had finished. 

She got a protein bar and took a walk around the compound, seeing what was coming up and noting any jobs she wanted to do, the dogs running ahead and back. This had been an almost daily ritual before Christian arrived. 

She got to a little gazebo she had set up with cushions and sat, cross-legged. The dogs were familiar with this part of the routine and curled up next to her. She closed her eyes and noticed her breath, the bird songs and the wind through the emerging leaves. 

A few minutes later the dogs both jumped up and she heard footsteps. She opened her eyes to see Christian approaching. “Hey. What are you doing?” 

“Meditating.” 

“Oh.” He stopped short. “Sorry - I’ll . .”

“That’s OK. All done.” She scooted over and patted for him to join her on the cushions. He sat down and Cody immediately jumped into his lap. Christian was wearing comfortable jeans again, and a short-sleeve denim shirt, open a few buttons down so she saw the white muscle shirt underneath. His hair was pulled back in a low ponytail in waves down his back. 

She felt the warmth of him where he leaned companionably against her. She turned a little to face him and there were those intense blue eyes, taking her in, and that half grin to meet her smile. 

“Thank you for playing your new music for me last night,” she said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” 

“Sure. It feels real now that I got to share it.” He scratched Cody’s ears. “What are you up to today?” 

She laughed. “I don’t know. You always ask me that, but I don’t really have a master plan here. I might just sit here for a while. A couple times I sat here and meditated all day, just to see what would happen. ”

“Huh. What happened?” 

“Once I got over the antsy part during the first few hours, I was almost hallucinating. It was cool. Your mind does trippy things when you get bored enough.”

“Let’s try again,” he said. “What needs to get done today?” 

“Nothing  _ needs _ to get done.” She grinned at him. 

“Amanda . . .” 

“Fine. You don’t do nothing very well, do you? Some things that  _ could _ get done - let’s see. I need to get those other garden beds built and planted. I want to get your tomatoes in. The three sisters garden in the front needs to be done. Um - I want to start some sprouts. We can always use firewood.

“Oh - over there?” She pointed to the tall grass and low shrubs on the other side of the garden. “There’s a path I’m trying to keep clear. I’ll take a lopper to that at some point. And we just kind of dumped all the new supplies downstairs - I’ll get that sorted out and shelved eventually. Oh, you know what? I still haven’t dug up the potato bed. That needs to be done soon, before they sprout.” She frowned. “I think that’s - oh, wait. The toilets need to be emptied by now, and I think a trash can is full and needs to get hauled away. Ok, that’s it!” 

“Great. I’m gonna go dig potatoes.” He started to get up. 

“Good plan. I’m going to sit here and pet the dogs.” As soon as he was on his feet and moving both dogs jumped up and ran after him. “Fine - I’ll just sit here then!” He waved as he walked away. 

A few minutes later she wandered over to the garden and watched as he tackled the bed with a shovel, turning up potatoes both whole and sliced. “Do you want some tips?” 

He stopped and rested on the shovel. “Sure.” 

“If you use the pitchfork and scoop at at angle -” she picked it up and demonstrated going into the soil a little sideways and pushed it deep - “you don’t stab so many and you can make sure you got them all.” She pushed down on the handle and a chunk of dirt popped up, falling apart to reveal a pile of potatoes and loose dirt falling through the tines. 

“Wow - They did well,” she said.

“Got it.” He reached for the pitchfork and she only hesitated a second before handing it over. She picked out the potatoes and set them aside as he dug through the rest of the bed. 

He put the shovel aside. “What next?” 

“The ones that got cut or nicked - we’ll clean those up for supper. The others go on the porch to cure before they can get stored.” That got both of those jobs done and turned some compost into the bed and planted the seed potatoes from the previous day. 

“Now what, the three sisters garden?” 

She laughed. “Christian, what’s your hurry? I’m not used to rushing through everything.”

“I dunno. It needs to get done, doesn’t it?” 

“Not really.” 

He sighed, frustrated. “Well, if I’m not drinking I want to be doing something. I get restless.” 

“Well, what do you feel like doing?” 

“I don’t know!” He said loudly, frustrated. “If I knew I would do it!”

“Alright. Let’s go for a walk,” she said. 

“What?” 

She turned and headed for the street and he followed, the dogs excited and dancing at their feet. 

“Here -” she reached for his hand. “Let me show you the neighborhood.” 

With the sidewalks so overgrown they walked down the middle of the street. Trash from overturned cans was caught in the long grass and low shrubs. She was acutely awareness of his hand in hers, their fingers twined and rubbing her thumb against a callous on his hand. She felt just a pang as a memory flashed of one of her first dates with Ryan, walking hand in hand down a country road. 

“I haven’t been through any of these houses,” she said, waving at the big homes around them. “I was saving anything in walking distance for when the cars died. If you ever want to go exploring, feel free.” 

“All right.” 

The street before them was mostly empty and she stopped at a car that had crashed into a fence. “I can’t figure out the timeline of what must have happened,” she said. “Why is there not more of this? Did everyone politely drive home, park, and then disappear?”

“I don’t know. Everywhere I went it was like this, the streets almost empty.” 

“I don’t think it was the rapture,” she said. “We couldn’t have been the only two unrighteous people in the world.” 

They walked several blocks through decaying residential property and got to a small business district. “I loved this place - Hops and Vines, a wine and beer bar. I went here with girlfriends sometimes. There’s the ice cream parlour. I was here all the time with my kids.” 

He stopped and turned to her. “You lived near here, then?”

“Oh, yeah. About five minutes that way.” She pointed. “That’s how I knew about Laurel Court.”

“I’d love to see your house.” 

“Would you?”

He caught her hand again, running his thumb in a circle on her palm in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “I would. Can we go see it?” He dipped his head, gave her that sweet slow smile and held her gaze.

She felt the familiar shiver and her heart sped up under his warm regard. She smiled back and leaned toward him, meeting his gaze.

“No.” She saw his eyes widen in surprise for just a split second. “I don’t really like going back,” she said. “I haven’t in a couple of years. We can go over some other time.” 

“Alright, darlin’.” 

She grinned as they headed back. She was glad he accepted that his charm didn’t work all the time.

Back at Laurel Court she gave in to his urgency to get stuff done and they worked their way through the list, stopping for a quick lunch. They took care of the trash and toilets, built and planted the rest of the vegetable beds, and got the three sisters garden set up. 

He was familiar with the concept - the corn, pole beans and squash were all planted together in mounds about 18 inches across, with the corn supporting the beans and the squash keeping out weeds. He finished cleaning up the bed and made the mounds while she went in to get the seeds.

“Here’s the problem,” she said when she came back out. “I could get hundreds of pounds of popcorn to plant, but all you can do is pop it - it’s terrible as fresh corn. I can get field corn seed from a feed store and it’ll do for drying and grinding, for cornmeal or grits. Again, can’t really eat it fresh. 

“Now, sweet corn -” she held up a vacuum-sealed plastic bag with five packets of corn seed. “Most of the seed is the supersweet hybrid, and if you save the seed it reverts back to a parent plant and it isn’t very good. 

“This is all I found of heirloom non-hybrid sweet corn. That means we need to use this to grow more seed, and if it doesn’t make it we will never eat fresh sweet corn again.” She tried to look serious, but he was grinning at her. “What?” 

“Do you know -” he dropped the shovel, took a step forward and pulled her close for a hug before easing his hold to look at her - “that is about the first time you’ve said ‘we’?” 

“Oh.” She ducked her head. 

“You’re right, sweetheart. We need to sort out this corn situation.” He was still grinning like a kid who had just hit a homerun. “What do you suggest?” 

“Well . . .” she was blushing and wondered what that was about. “I’ve been afraid to use it up, but I know what I’m doing a little more - the popcorn did well last year. And with two of us tending the garden, I thought it would be a good year to try it.” 

“Sure!” 

“You’re awfully excited about corn,” she said. 

“I’m excited that you’ve accepted I’m going to be here long enough to help.” 

Maybe, she thought. They planted the corn and squash - the beans would go in when the corn was four or five inches high. It got done in a fraction of the time it would have taken her alone; he was quick and worked hard, and he didn’t get bored and wander off and read a book or take a nap for a few hours as she often did. 

I guess I could get used to this, she thought, and felt relief and joy and a frisson of fear at the thought. 

“Now what was that about a path?” he asked. 

“I can’t keep the whole place trimmed, but it would be nice to go for a walk without dealing with the weeds.” She led him along the overgrown path that wound past the gazebo, the orchard, several sculptures, a wide pace in the stream and under some tall, majestic pines. “I had a push mower for a couple years before it died - that worked great.”

“Where is the mower? Maybe I can get that started again for ya.” 

“That would be wonderful!” She showed him the rest of the grounds and a few small outbuildings he hadn’t seen yet and they ended up back at the house. 

“I can’t believe how much we got done today. If I get bored because we got everything done, it’ll be your job to keep me entertained.” 

He laughed. “You got it. I’ll come up with somethin’!” 

The daylight was just starting to fade as they cleaned up and started towards the house. “Christian - look.” She pointed back toward the oaks. A deer and two little spotted fawns were stepping out of the shadows. “Those are the first ones I’ve seen this year. They aren’t very afraid anymore.” They stood still as the deer came closer, nibbling as she went, raising her head to keep an eye on the people. 

They heard a short ‘whuff’ and Jack came tearing past them, barking. The deer turned and leaped away, the fawns right behind. “When the babies are bigger that deer will come back and chase that dog all over the yard. He’s not so brave then.” 

He squeezed her hand. “I hope we see more.” He started to turn toward the house, then stopped and looked at the yard. “Wait - what’s that?” He pointed out across the lawn to a soft glow of lights showing up here and there, especially along the paths. 

“Oh - solar garden lights. I went on a kick and got a whole bunch and put them out. It’s kind of fun.” 

“I’ll say.” As they watched and the twilight deepened, more and more lights gradually came to life all over the estate, like huge fireflies nestled in the grass. “Wow.” He smiled and slipped his arm around her waist. They had been together a week or so, but she still was so aware wherever he touched her. 

“That’s really neat, Amanda.” He pulled her closer as they turned toward the house. “What do you want to do for supper?” 

“I’ll just open a can of tuna or something.” 

“Nah, are you kidding me? I’ll make ya something.” 

“Don’t you ever relax?” she asked. 

He shook his head and grinned. “Cooking is relaxing for me.” 

“Fine. Use those potatoes!” she called as she settled in the parlor and he headed down the hall to the kitchen. She curled up with a book and a dog on her lap while he went back and forth from the the pantry to the porch. She grinned when he came down to update her on the meal preparations. 

He called her to dinner and they sat down to grilled rosemary potatoes and greek tuna lentil patties. “I woulda liked to do the potatoes on the charcoal grill instead of gas, but that would have taken too long.” 

“I love these patties. I cannot believe what you manage to do with that food downstairs.” 

He shrugged. “They’re all right. What these potatoes really want is a big ol’ rare steak.”

“Ooooh.” She put down her fork. “I really miss fresh meat. I caught a rabbit once early on, but I didn’t know what I was doing. There was nothing left to eat by the time I got the skin and stuff off. Poor little guy.”

“Had you ever seen someone do it, or did you just try to figure it out?” 

“My dad would butcher rabbits but I never paid attention. It’s hard to figure out from the books.” 

“I bet.” He shook his head and took another bite. 

“I saw you packed some guns. Do you hunt at all?” 

“I did before. A little at first, I guess.” He shrugged. “Me and Carson did some target shooting. I haven’t had the guns out much since he passed.” 

“Well, I’ll be starting my annual battle to keep the rabbits and squirrels out of my garden. If you take a few of them out, I will not object.” 

“I might can do that. Do you get many?” 

“There were hardly any animals around at first. There still aren’t really enough deer to do damage yet but the squirrels and rabbits have bounced back enough to be nuisance.” 

“Yeah, that’s weird. Out West, too, there’s not nearly as many animals as there should be. I guess the virus or whatever got them too.” 

For the second evening, she sat with an unread book and listened while he played. After dinner he got out a bottle of whiskey to sip between songs just like he used to do at his concerts and set up his music stand and notebook in the parlor. He played a few notes or bars or sang something to himself and made a note and tried again. After a passage that he seemed pleased with he looked up at her and winked and grinned. 

“I’m so glad you don’t mind me hanging out while you play.” 

“No, I’m glad of the company. That’s why I came downstairs.” He played a few chords. “What do you think of this?” 

 

Wildfire rages taking it all,

Baby gone, mama right behind.

If I was fast enough and strong enough

I could catch them before they turn to smoke and cinder

But not even ashes are left behind. 

  
  


Her hands were on her chest trying to ease the tightness in her heart and she felt tears well up. “That was beautiful.” 

“I dunno. It’s not much yet.” He picked up his glass and took a drink, then looked down and played a few more notes. “It might turn into something.” 

“Thank you so much. I’m so glad that you feel like you can share that with me.” 

He looked up at her and she felt the intensity of his gaze even from several feet away. “It means a lot to me to get to play for someone.” He put down the guitar and came over to sit by her. “You know what, I’ve hardly had my hands on you all day.” 

Her breath caught. “I thought something was missing.” 

He reached up and cradled her face between his hands. His eyes were so intense it was hard for her not to look away, but she took a deep breath and let him in. She searched his eyes, a little less haunted than when they had met a week ago. He leaned forward and it was like his kisses from the first day, soft and searching, exploring and teasing. 

Her body responded right away as he tasted her, taking her mouth and drawing her tongue back into his. Even as she moaned and tangled her hands in in hair, pulling him closer, she tried to understand what it was about these kisses that was so different. 

There was so much sensation - he moved against her, sucking and licking and nibbling, and he was so responsive, aware of and in tune with her. He was leading or following her lead, teasing or moving forward, like a dance. 

When he finally broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her, she was gasping for breath on her back on the loveseat with him above her, his body laying across her. 

“Oh my God,” she said. 

His eyes shone as he smiled and gave her another soft kiss. “I don’t know if anyone has ever responded to my kisses like you do.” 

“I know that I’ve never been kissed like this before in my life.” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow in question. “First -” Now that they weren’t kissing she realized what an awkward position she was in. “I need to sit up. Maybe we can find a bigger couch to move in here or something.” He chuckled and pulled her up against him, turning to see her. 

“Do you remember, I think, the second day?” she asked. “I asked how you knew what kisses I liked. That was because I had never been kissed like that. I didn’t know you could be.” 

He started to say something, then just shook his head. “Let’s go upstairs.” 

In the bedroom he turned the lantern on low, undressed and joined her in bed. She lay on her back and he leaned over her, his blue eyes gazing into hers and his long hair hanging down around his face, screening them. 

He kissed her and she met him, letting her head sink into the pillow and using her tongue and a gentle tug on his hair to invite him deeper, twining with him and teasing him back. He moaned and his hand went down her side to her hip and bottom, pulling her against him and she gasped against his mouth when she felt him hard and hot against her.

She closed her eyes as he kissed down into her neck, shifting over her little by little. She shivered at his tongue on her earlobe, then his lips on the tender skin, working down. His soft hair was against her cheek, his hand broad and warm on her back, holding her against him, and his thumb brushed her breast. 

She heard his breathing against her, their skin moving against each other and the rustle of the sheets, and the soft crackle of the candles glowing softly on the nightstand. 

Dreams aren’t this real, she thought. But it has to be a dream. It seemed real enough during the day, cooking and gardening together, but here - she kissed his neck, letting her mouth rest on him, tasting the salt of his skin and taking in the scent of woodsmoke and whiskey and male sweat. She used to remember her dreams, before, but she could never smell or taste in dreams. 

He eased back and smiled at her, his body still pressed against her and his hand at her waist, cradling her. She reached up to touch his face, and her hand did not pass through empty air but rested on him, warm and soft and rough from stubble. She could feel his pulse under her palm. 

“I don’t believe this,” she murmured. His smile faded and his hand stilled on her, his brow furrowed. “Are you real?” she continued. “Aren’t I dreaming? How is this . . .” 

Her words were stopped by his kiss, sweet and real as it could be. “You scared me for a second,” he said gruffly against her neck before pulling back to see her again, reaching up to cradle her cheek. 

“Why?” She leaned into his hand. 

“I thought something was wrong.”

“What’s wrong is I’m going to wake up, and you’ll be gone.” 

“Naw. You can’t get rid of me that easy.” Her heart hammered at that little crooked grin, the set to his jaw and the glint in his eye. Every picture and video she’d seen of him with this look flashed through her mind before he was again real and warm and solid against her. 

She wrapped her hands in his hair and pulled him down to her again, her kisses hungry, coming after him. He was real and solid, firm against her. She moaned and arched her back under his hand, pulling on him until he shifted over her and she wrapped around him, moving until he was hard up against her and he could feel her against his cock. 

She shifted her hips again, pushing against him and he moaned and without breaking the kiss slid into her, tight and hot and wet, possessing her mouth with his tongue at the same time. She arched her back and finally broke the kiss to pull him down against her with her arms and legs wrapped around him, moaning at each thrust filling her up. 

His breathing changed and tempo increased and she was lost in those wonderful moments when the whole universe was the feel and smell and taste of him inside and out, the intensity built and he was quivering on her and collapsed, melting on her, gasping against her neck. 

She clung to him, legs still around his waist, arms around his neck, and his heart pounding against hers, gradually calming. She unwrapped her legs and she whimpered a little when she felt him withdraw. 

“That was wonderful, that was so sweet,” she whispered against his neck. He wrapped an arm around her and rested his head on her chest and she cradled him against her, stroking his hair. 

He sighed and she felt it through his whole body. “No matter what I need, you are right there for me.” 

“It is an honor.” As soon as she said it she realized it was an odd thing to say but that was how it felt. To be the person, by whatever happenstance, who could, if not relieve then push back some of the pain and horror he had been through, and to allow him to do that for her, was a privilege. 

He finally pulled back enough to meet her eyes. His smile was soft and the lines around his eyes had eased. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, I am wonderful. That was just what I needed.” 

“Mmmmm. Me too.” They drifted off wrapped around each other. 

 

He was already gone when she woke up the next morning. She went out to find him tinkering on the mower outside the garage. 

“Hey, darlin’.” He put down the tools and came over to give her a kiss. She put her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of him. He pulled back and looked at her. “That’s the dress you got at Target.” 

She grinned, surprised. “You remember it?”

“I remember ripping it off you.” He grinned. “That was a memorable day. You were sleeping so sound I didn’t want to wake you up. I changed the oil in your van and I’m trying to fix your mower.” 

“You are amazing. Thank you.” She pulled him closer, pressing up against him. “That was so sweet last night. I loved it.” 

“I’m glad. Me too.” He gave her that little half-grin and then kissed her again, soft and sweet. “So, you said last night you’d never been kissed like this before . . .”

She ducked her head against his chest. “Yeah.” 

“Huh.” He was silent a moment and she could imagine his thoughts - ‘I don’t know about that Ryan of yours.’ “OK. What are you up to today?” 

She breathed a sigh of relief that he was willing to drop it this time. “The only thing left on the list is the sort out the supplies and food but I’ll do that later. I got one thing I want to do in the kitchen then I’m just gonna go read, I think. I’ll get out the hammock.” 

“All right. I’m going to work on this, and I saw a chainsaw I’m gonna try and fix up.” 

She went back to the kitchen and got out quart mason jars with cheesecloth for the lid and big plastic jugs of seeds. She had already put a tablespoon of seeds in each jar and let them soak a few minutes and was draining the water when Christian came in. 

“What are you up to?” he asked. 

“Sprouts.” She held up one of the jars. “Alfalfa sprouts, mung beans, lentils. For salads or whatever. We’ll have some fresh food in about a week.” 

“Fuck yeah!” He came over to see. “Really? That’s awesome.” 

“Um, OK. It’s just sprouts.” She drained the last jar. 

“I just thought of about 15 different things I could make with those.” He grabbed her from behind and kissed her neck. “Cooking was one of my all-time favorite things to do, and I haven’t done shit in years. And here you are pulling all this amazing food out of your ass like crazy.” 

She cracked up. “Yeah, that’s where I’ve been keeping it!” She shooed him back. “Here -” She opened a cupboard. “Help yourself. The jars are here, here are the rings and the cheesecloth. And here are all the seeds you can pick from. I usually do two or three at a time.” Broccoli, wheat berries, sesame, sunflower, chia, cress, clover and a dozen kinds of beans were lined up in jars. “If there is one you want I don’t have, I bet we can find it at a Whole Foods.” 

“You are amazing. Can we start some broccoli, too?” 

“Sure.” She got the jar set up, grinning the whole time. It was so fun to see him so excited. He backed her up to the counter and gave her a thorough kiss that left her knees weak before heading back to his tools.

Still grinning and tingling from his excitement and the kiss, she headed outside. It was the perfect day for reading, she thought. She hung up the wide rope hammock and got it all set up the way she wanted with a table for her drink, snacks and book, cushions and a pillow and a blanket if she got cool, and a rope tied to a tree so she could swing herself. She enjoyed several hours of reading, with the added pleasure of knowing that when she got tired of her book she could just put it down and go find Christian. She was not faced with an endless empty lonely day. 

She looked up a few times to watch him move between the garage, house and his truck and she heard the putter of an engine trying to fire, but it didn’t sound like he had gotten anything working. She had closed her book and was enjoying the breeze and dappled sunlight through the trees when she saw him come towards her. 

“Hey,” he called. “You’ve got quite a set up here.” 

“Of course. I spare no effort when it comes to my comfort. How is it going?” 

“I couldn’t get either one working.” He shrugged. “Maybe we can go get some new ones.” 

“You don’t look disappointed.”

“Nah, that was fun. I like working with my hands.” She swung her legs down and he carefully sat next to her. “It’s past lunch time. What do you want?” 

“Oh, I’ve been snacking all morning.” She pointed to the pile of wrappers, juice bottles and jar of nuts on the table. “I’m not really hungry.”

“I’ll just open a can of soup or something then.” He looked around. “Can two fit on this thing?” 

“Sure!” She had him stand up, then swung her legs up and stretched out and he lay next to her. She scooted the pillow over to share and pulled on the rope to start them gently rocking. 

“He sighed. “This is nice.” 

“I’ll teach you how to relax yet.” 

He grinned. “Other women have tried.” 

“Hmm. I’m very honored that you’re hanging out in a hammock with me, then.” 

He turned to his side, resting his head on one arm, putting the other around her. “I’ll be honest with ya, I have spent very little time in hammocks.”

“Mmm.” She ran her fingers up and down his arm at her waist. 

“I’m excited about those sprouts.”

“I could tell. I’m glad.” She rested her hand on his and every once in a while pulled the rope to set them swinging again. She listened to his even breathing and the birdsong in the trees above them. She was glad the birds at least hadn’t been wiped out with everything else. 

“Hey, Christian.” 

“Mmm-hmm.” 

“Do you ever wonder where everyone went?” 

He was quiet. “I used to,” he said finally. I thought about it every day. Not so much now.” 

“I wouldn’t let myself think about before. I’ve been thinking about it a lot more this week. It just doesn’t make any sense.” 

“No, it does not.” 

“Where did the bodies go?” she asked. “The last thing I knew was people dying all around me. The hospitals were overflowing. Some other people were still alive. Then I woke up and there’s no one. Not one body, the hospitals were empty.” 

“I know.” 

“The people who had already been buried - did they disappear too?” she asked. “I couldn’t bring myself to check.” 

“No. As far as I could tell, anyone under dirt was still there,” he said. 

She looked over to see his eyes go distant. She didn’t ask how he knew. “So, the others - something must have taken them, right? But that was millions and millions of people.” 

“I don’t know. I saw the same thing you did. I don’t think we’ll ever know.” 

“But why are we here? You and I have nothing in common that we didn’t have in common with thousands of other people. This doesn’t make sense,” she said again. 

“Amanda, I think there is no making sense of this. I think you had the right idea - live for today and don’t think about it.” 

“I wish I could go back to that.” She set them rocking again. “I like this. Thank you for coming to lay down with me.” 

He chuckled and nuzzled against her neck. “Darlin’, you don’t ever need to thank me for that!”

She was quiet for a few minutes. “And the animals - you said they were gone in the rest of the country, too?”

“Yep. No herds of cattle, no piles of bones. Maybe - I don’t know, one in a hundred left? Of the places where I knew how many they started with, anyway.”

“So more survived than people. But across species? That’s weird. Except for birds.” She motioned at the tree above them. “There seems to be a lot of them. Did you see that everywhere else?”

He considered. “Now that you mention it, birds did seem about normal. Huh. I bet the birds of prey are all gone by now, though.” 

“OK.” She let go of the rope and started counting off. “A normal plague would have left bodies, and probably not taken every kind of animal. I was teasing the other day, but the rapture would have left more than you and me, and wasn’t stuff supposed to happen after, like seas of blood and swords of flame or something? I dunno, I’m not up on the Bible. Aliens, for God’s sake? This is all weird but we haven’t seen anything non-Earth-like. I’m pretty sure I’m not dreaming - do you know how to tell if you’re dreaming?”

“No, I guess I never thought about it.” 

“If you ever think, ‘Is this real or am I dreaming,’ if you look at a book or a clock, look away and look back again, it will be different. Or look at your hand -” she held hers up - “the number of fingers will change. As strange as they are, things seems stable. So I think this is real.”

“That was a long way around to a simple answer.” He shifted to his back and held her hand, twining his fingers in hers. She was glad he didn’t seem inclined to rush back to his work. 

“The only other thing I can think of is virtual reality. Do you remember the White Rabbit Job on  _ Leverage _ ?” 

“Sure.” 

She grinned. “You got to be a knight in armor. It would be a lot more sophisticated than that, and directly in our brains instead of manipulated reality. I don’t think we could tell the difference. And isn’t it weird that so many skills I have are useful now?” 

She glanced over at him. “And that the one person I would have wished into reality is the one who shows up? But it would take a ton of resources and who would do it, and why? And how could so many details be right that no one else would know? And why me? That doesn’t make sense, either.” She brought his hand up to her face and kissed his palm. “When you were still thinking about it, what ideas did you come up with?” 

“Well, I thought about aliens too, but why would they kill almost everyone and then take ’em dead and alive? What if it was a plague that dissolved people, turned their bodies to acid or some such? That would explain why there’s no bones, no clothes, no nothin’. But why not dissolve those that died during that whole first year? The only other explanation is that I have just purely lost my mind, which I am still willing to consider.” 

“Oooh - the acid plague is a good one. I hadn’t thought of that.” She sighed. “Well, if this is a manipulated reality of some kind and we wake up in our old lives, you’ll have to come find me if you want to. If I try to get in touch with you I’ll just be a crazy stalker fan. ‘No, really, the world ended and we were together!’”

“Mmm.” He pulled her closer and kissed her. “I’m glad we worked that out. I’m going to go get my lunch.” 

“Oh, that’s right! I bet you’re starved. I’m getting hungry by now - I’ll come eat with you.” 

They went back to the house and of course he couldn’t just open some cans of soup. He brought out cans of chicken, black beans, tomatoes, and several different seasonings and made what he called a chicken burrito salad. “That’s really good, but a little too spicy for me.” She took a big drink of water. 

He frowned. “Really?” He took another bite. “There’s hardly any heat in there.”

“I know. I’m a wimp.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll know for next time.” 

“Oh, that’s OK. Now I know you like food a lot hotter than I do.” 

In the afternoon they alternated between his projects in the garage and workshop where she kept him company, then he hung out in the library with her, playing guitar while she organized and sorted her new books. For supper she made biscuits and they finished the spicy chicken dish and tuna patties, and then she set up a huge jigsaw puzzle on a card table in the parlour with lanterns all around and with wine for her and whiskey for him. They sorted pieces and enjoyed being together before they finally stumbled off to bed.   
  



	8. Chapter 8 - How Many for You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens in this one. I might come back and fix this when I'm not so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own Christian Kane. Unfortunately.

 

They woke in the morning to thunder and the pounding of rain on the roof. “Oh, good - this will fill up the hot tub and the rain barrels.” She got up and grabbed a robe against the chill. 

He reached for her. “Where are you going?” 

“I think there are some windows open downstairs.” 

She took care of the windows, let the dogs out and back in, used the bathroom, and stopped to grab some protein bars, jerky, and bottled juices and headed back upstairs. She dropped the food on the nightstand, slipped out of the robe and crawled back in next to Christian. “Mmm.” She was a little chilled and it was like curling up next to a radiator. 

“You’re cold.” He pulled her close and nuzzled her neck. She gasped at his beard on her throat, about three days’ worth, and rolled to her back to enjoy soaking up his heat. 

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” he asked. 

“Well, on days like this I usually just stay in bed all day. But this is going to be a whole lot more fun than it used to be.” 

“Mmm. I like that.” He slipped out of bed and came back a few minutes later naked and damp from getting washed up and she warmed him up, wrapping herself around him. 

She rolled him to his back and sat astride him, holding his hands up over his head, wrapping her fingers around his wrists. She leaned over, inches from his face, looking into those laughing blue eyes and handsome face. 

“I’ve got you,” she whispered. 

She saw a slow grin. He lifted his arms straight up into the air towards the ceiling and she rose with him as if she had been a feather. He held them there a moment, his muscles tensing as he lowered his hands back to the bed. She bit her lip and saw his dangerous grin and the gleam in his eye. They both knew he could have her pinned in an instant and there would have been nothing she could do about it. 

“You got me,” he agreed softly. “What are you going to do with me?”

“Hmmmm.” She bit her lip as she considered the possibilities. “I can’t quite decide. . .” She leaned forward and kissed him, releasing his hands and scooting up so she could hold his head, licking his lips, sucking, and nibbling. When he reached up to hold her she pushed his hands back to the bed. 

“Ah, ah, ah.” She leaned down again. His mouth was open and she explored, tangling with his tongue and dipping her tongue past him to taste and tease. She didn’t let him come to her - she held his head and gave kisses that were barely a touch or filled him up, tasting every part and pulling back when he started to respond. 

He was breathing hard when she lifted her head. “Jesus,” he moaned. He tried to lift his head to hers but she grinned and scooted back. She pulled her tank top off, leaned over him and held his hands against the bed again, lowering her breasts against his face. He moaned as she allowed him to suck on her nipple for just a moment before lifting up so it was barely brushing against his lips. She brushed against his face and let him taste her again before lifting up out of reach. The third time he groaned and tried to to capture her again in his mouth but she stayed almost out of reach, barely touching him. 

“Goddammit, woman.” 

“Poor guy.” Her grin was wide and she was biting her lip when she scooted back and sat up across his hips. “Let’s see, what else am I going to do with you . . .” She ran her hands up over his chest, shifting her hips back and forth on him until he growled and started pushing up against her. When he reached for her she again put his hands back on the bed over his head. 

“Behave,” she whispered in his ear, “or I’ll have to tie you down.” She bit her lip and and grinned when his muscles tensed and he groaned at her threat. 

She wrapped both hands around his bicep and squeezed. “Flex that for me.” She gasped when the muscled jumped and hardened under her hands. “Wow.” She ran her hands over his other arm and his chest and shoulders as well, instructing him to flex or tighten, her breath catching at each movement. 

She sat up and lightly ran her fingernails up and down his chest, biting her tongue between her teeth when she saw goosebumps rise on his skin. 

“This is fun.” She leaned forward again and ran her hands through his hair, massaging his scalp and playing with his hair, pulling it forward into his face and sweeping it back again and running her hands through it. “I never get to play with your hair.” 

“Enjoy it while you can.” He tried to shake it back out of his face and she smoothed it back. “I don’t let people play with my hair.” 

“Hmm. What next. I’m going to tell you a secret.” She sat up and braced her hands on his chest. “I don’t really have an exit plan here.” 

“I’ll help,” he said with a grin and reached for her but she caught his hands and held him to the bed. 

“Nope. You’re caught, remember? I’ll come up with something.” She grinned and slid down, nudging his legs apart until she was crouched between them. “Yum.” She ran her hands up his thighs and cupped him, letting her fingers tickle and explore. He was huge in front of her and she heard his hiss of breath as she put her mouth on him. 

She tickled her tongue up the underside and slid him into her mouth. She closed her eyes - she loved the the salty sweet of him and how his hands clenched in her hair and his thighs trembled under her palms. She could hear his groan but focused on what she was feeling and tasting and smelling. He was hard and hot and soft, filling her up. 

There was so much sensation and and she felt the power of it - she got to say where and how deep he would explore her. Her heart pounded and she moaned as she teased the little cleft with her tongue, tasting the juices he couldn’t help but give her. She knew if she did  _ this  _ with her tongue, if she took him deep and then pulsed against him like  _ that _ , within moments he would be ready to explode. She did, just a moment, then stopped and pulled back as soon as he started to move, grinning at his groan. 

She paused a moment, took a breath, let herself become still - and then moved down, and down. He filled her up but she kept going until her mouth was around the root of him. It was the most she ever taken, but that was what she wanted, to be filled and occupied, him down her throat taking her over.  

“Oh shit, fuck fuck.” His words choked out and his hands spasmed in her hair. She held him as long as she could, her tongue stroking him, before sliding him out. His whole body convulsed as he left her and she propped up, breathing hard, kissing up and down the length of him. 

“Oh my God, baby.” 

“I can’t believe I get to do this.” She slid over him again, kissing and tickling, focusing not so much on his pleasure and finding his rhythm but just playing, tasting and touching for her own amusement.

“Jesus, Amanda, oh my God,” he groaned through clenched teeth as she swirled her tongue around. His body was quivering by the time she finally settled and let him start moving with her. After all that teasing it was only moments before he gasped “Stop,” and tried to raise her head away from him. 

She lifted her head. “No, I want to suck you off,” and she was back on him, one hand wrapped low around the shaft and the rest in her mouth, tasting him as deep as she could. He cried out and his legs tightened around her and he grabbed her hair and he was pounding against her and the world exploded, every sense filled, the taste and smell and feel of him, and she swallowed, able to accept every bit of him. 

She finally had to let go to catch her breath and slid up next to him and wrapped her arms around him, bringing his head to her chest. He was shaking and she could still taste him. He was damp with sweat and she pulled up a cover and cradled him against her until his body finally calmed. 

“Wow.” She kissed his head. “That was like riding a tornado.” 

“Holy shit.” He groaned and turned over, pulling her to him. “Where did you learn to do that?” 

“I dunno. What do you mean?” 

“That was amazing.” 

She couldn’t stop grinning. “I’m glad. That was fun.” His face was flushed and his breathing was still uneven. She cuddled up against him and tucked her face into his neck. “I liked that a lot.” 

“Holy fuck.” He pulled her close. A few minutes later his arm was heavier on her and his breathing changed and she knew he had drifted off, and she may have fallen asleep as well when he stirred a while later. 

She was watching him when he opened his eyes. As soon as he focused on her he smiled, a big, warm real smile. 

“Hey,” she said. She moved forward the inch between them and kissed him, just letting their lips touch and moving against him. 

“Hey.” He pulled back a little and looked at her, still smiling. 

“That’ll teach you to get caught.” 

He laughed out loud and she grinned - she hadn’t heard him laugh like that since they had gotten together. It was wonderful to see him so happy with some of the shadows in his eyes gone, at least for a while. 

“I am afraid it surely will,” he said. “I might end up getting caught all over the place.” He caressed her face, smiling, and shook his head. “Ok, I know I am going to regret asking this, because it is surely none of my business, but I have to know.” He lowered his head and looked at her. “You were married at 21, you were a housewife and teacher for 17 years, right?” She nodded. “How did you learn . . .”

She chuckled and hid her face on his chest. “Wow. I’m glad it was that good. I dunno - I guess you get good at something you enjoy.” 

“You must enjoy it a lot then.” 

She kept her face down, not meeting his gaze. “Yep. I don’t know how to compare, though. Ryan and I were both really inexperienced when we got married.” 

He was quiet a moment. “Oh.” 

“I know you’ve been with a lot more people than me, and sometimes I’ve wanted to ask how it was or how I compare. But all I wanted to hear was I was the best, however unlikely that was, so I didn’t ask.” She shyly peeked up at him. “But maybe . . .”

“Oh, yeah, darlin’. Hell yeah. That was about the best.” She grinned and hunched her shoulders and burrowed against his chest. “So, you said you weren’t very experienced - how many have there been?” 

“How many men have I had sex with? Counting you - five.” 

“So just four, before? In your whole life? Wow.” 

She looked up, grinning. “Hey. Not everyone gets the nookie of a country rock star. How many for you?” 

“Um, I didn’t really keep count. Shit. I knew I’d be sorry I brought it up.” 

She grinned. “Yeah. Ballpark it.” 

He sighed. “I dunno. Thirty, maybe, or forty? But that’s over twenty years.” 

“If you were with them the way you are with me, that was thirty or forty lucky women.” 

“That’s not the response I expected.” 

“Did you think I’d be jealous?” She shook her head. “That would be stupid.” 

He settled on his back and she cuddled on his chest. “You always surprise me.” They cuddled some more and both drifted off again. When she awoke to the rain still pelting the windows she stretched and got some juice and a protein bar from the nightstand. 

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“I told you, I don’t get out of bed today. The only thing is that I want to go check the hot tub - when it’s full to the top I’ll put the downspout back in the rain barrel. Oh, and I’ll rinse those sprouts that I started yesterday.” She held up the snack and a book she had on the nightstand. “Otherwise, here is my day!” 

“Huh. Ok.” 

“Unless I get a better offer, I guess.” She took a drink of juice and put everything down and slid back down into bed and into his arms. “That was a lot of fun before.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? That was amazing.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe it.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “Maybe I can return the favor.” 

“We’ll see. Not today, though.” 

“Sure.” He reached up and brushed back her hair. “What would you like?” 

She shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Do you want a massage?”

He grinned to see her face light up. “Sure!”

She handed him a bottle of lotion from the nightstand and enjoyed his warm, strong hands over her back and buttocks and down her legs. 

“Mmm. That’s so nice.” It was midmorning and after another cuddle she turned over and curled up in bed. 

“You really are going to stay in bed all day? Sober?” 

“Yep,” she said. “I’ll probably get up to pee.” 

“Well, that’s a good thing. All right, I’ll see you later.” 

Over the next several hours she dozed, read her book, and cuddled Jack when he came to visit. Rainy days were usually very melancholy days for her, but she thought of the morning with Christian and could catch his scent on the sheets. She thought about how much pleasure she had given him, and the feel of his hands so firm all over her.

She could hear when he went into the music room and played with several drums and his guitar. She put down her book and curled up, listening. She couldn’t make out the words but could hear a plaintive, almost otherworldly melody. She was drifting off again when he came to the door a while later. 

“Hey. How are you doin’?” 

“I’m wonderful.” She stretched, reaching out as far as she could and heard some joints crack. “This is a great rainy day.” 

He came and sat on the edge of the bed. “I saw the hot tub was full, so I put the hose back for ya. And I rinsed the sprout seeds.” 

“Oh, thank you!” She sat up and gave him a hug. 

“I was going to bring you some lunch,” he said. “What sounds good?” 

“Oh - that would be amazing! Maybe just a can of soup heated up, chowder or something.” 

“Are you really going to stay in bed all day?” 

“Not all day. I got up to pee and put on pajamas.” She pulled at the mass of blankets surrounding her. “And I made a nest.” 

He shook his head. “That would make me crazy.” He looked at her, tilting his head. “You look happy, though.” 

“I am very happy right this moment. It feels so decadent, especially starting out with a captive and a rubdown and now being waited on!” She grinned at him and bit her lip. “That was fun this morning. I keep thinking about it.” 

“Holy fuck, me too.” He reached up and touched her face. 

“Before you came, this would have been a miserable day. It just reminded me of how alone I was.” 

“I know.” He looked at her for another moment. “All right, soup it is.” 

He brought soup, canned corn chowder jazzed up with garlic, seasonings and wine, and visited with her for a while before wandering off again. 

Several hours later she finished her book, a very satisfying period romance, and finally felt like getting up. It was late afternoon when she wandered downstairs in her flannel pajamas, robe, and slippers and wrapped in a blanket. It was still pouring down rain and the dogs were curled in front of the fire Christian had built in the parlor fireplace. She stopped in front of the fire to soak up some heat and found him in the huge kitchen, going through the cupboards and cabinets. 

“Hi.” She smiled when she saw what he was wearing - a knit beanie with a brim, fingerless gloves and a jacket and two shirts against the chill. It was a familiar look but she hadn’t seen it much yet in the week or so they’d been together. 

He looked up and grinned. “Hey - you’re up!” 

“Yep. I finished my book.” 

“Was it good?”

“Oh, yeah, I really enjoyed it,” she said. 

“That’s good.” He reached up to put a big wok back in a cupboard. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just exploring,” he said. “I was curious what else they had here.” 

“What did you find? I haven’t really looked since I first got here.” She hopped up to sit on a wide counter and pulled her blanket around her. 

She enjoyed his tour through the kitchen. He had found a really good set of knives and some specialized grating or chopping or something equipment he was excited about. He pulled pots and tureens out of cabinets she had only glanced in. He opened drawers and showed her gadgets and devices of every kind. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” she said. 

“Hell yeah, this is great.”

“Come here,” she said. He put down the marble mortar and pestle he was showing her and came to her side of the kitchen, grinning. He stepped up to where she was perched on the counter and she opened the blanket and threw it around him, wrapping him up against her. “You’re caught again,” she said softly. 

“Maybe it’s your turn,” he growled and with one hand reached around her back and pulled her close and with the other pulled her head down for a kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth, assertive and all initiation this time. She closed her eyes and clung to him as he took control, easing her mouth open and tangling with her tongue, overwhelming her senses. 

His hand was on the back of her head and she realized he was easing her back on the counter. He broke the kiss and shifted and he was on her again, filling her senses with his kisses as he leaned her back on the counter and she felt his weight on her. 

“What are you doing up here?” she gasped when he moved down to ravage her neck. They were both stretched out on the wide stainless steel counter, her blanket under them and Christian working to get her robe open while kissing down her neck. 

“It’s your turn to get caught.” His voice was rough but he had that mischievous half-grin as he propped up on one elbow and looked down at her, reaching up and touching her face and kissing her again. 

“This is like in  _ Hide _ , except we are wearing so many clothes right now. I loved that scene.” She took his hat off his head and dropped it behind her on the counter, his hair falling loose. He finally got her robe open but was now confronted with flannel pajamas. 

“Yeah.” He rubbed his chin. “I guess I didn’t think this through. Do you want to be caught somewhere else?” 

“If you feed your captives. I wanted to get something to eat.” She stroked back his hair. 

“Oh, yeah, we can rustle you up something.” But he didn’t move yet, just looked at her in the light of the lantern on the nearby counter. His arm was under her head, cushioning her from the stainless steel, and she felt cradled in his arms. 

“You are a very generous captor.” She reached up and traced her fingers over his face. “This is fun. We should do it again without five layers of clothes.” 

He chuckled. “You are up for anything, aren’t you?”

“Just about, I guess.” 

They finally climbed down and he got her something to eat and they settled in the parlor in front of the fire, both wrapped in her blanket. He was in a very playful mood and kept teasing her with kisses and trying to get her out of her clothes. She laughed and pulled her big fuzzy blanket back around her shoulders. 

“I’m too cold. And it’s not fair, I can’t get at you at all.” He had taken off his jacket and she had gotten a few buttons undone on his shirt but he had on a long-sleeve thermal underneath. 

“All right.” He sat up. “You stay here. I’ll be right back.” He ran upstairs and came back a minute later with his arms full of blankets from the bed. He dropped them in front of the fire and piled wood in the fireplace until the fire was roaring again. 

“Come help me make a nest.” She was smiling and her heart was speeding up in anticipation as she sorted out the covers and fashioned a bed for them, soft and deep and with the plush, fuzzy blankets on the inside. He took off both of his shirts and knelt down next to her in the hollow of the blankets, sliding her robe off and unbuttoning the first button of her flannel top, trailing his fingers down her bare skin to the next. She gasped as the next button loosened and the next, his hand warm on her skin and leaving goosebumps. He undid the last button and the shirt fell open. Her breath caught and her head went back and she was getting warm as he slid it over her shoulders and his fingers trailed over her bare skin. He caught her eye and raised an eyebrow in question. 

“I really, um, REALLY like being undressed like this.” Her breath caught again as he slid the flannel pajama shirt off and tossed it aside. 

“Now how did that not come up before.” He kissed her neck, bringing out more of those little gasps, her breath catching over and over as he eased her back into the blankets. “Fuck, that is so hot. I love it when you do that.” He slipped the flannel bottoms and his own sweatpants off and pulled the blankets up around them. She gazed up at him with shining eyes and a flushed face and he just looked at her, taking her in, before kissing her again until she was whimpering and moving her hips against him. 

He ran his hand down her body, groaning against her mouth when he felt how soaking wet she was just from his kisses. He touched her, slipping into her folds and she arched against him. He held her as best he could as she bucked against him, following the cues from her body and her whispered pleas of ‘more’ or ‘easy’ as he touched her until she flushed beet red and exploded. 

He heard her breathless “Stop stop,” and slid up to hold her but instead of collapsing on him she was still grinding against him and had ahold of his shoulder, weakly pulling him toward her. 

“You want more?” He reached down and brushed his hand between her legs but she yelped and jumped. 

She spread her legs under him. “Take me, inside me,” she gasped. “Please.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes, yes.” His heart pounding, he shifted over her and slid inside, and his head dropped to her shoulder and his jaw clenched at how tight and wet she was. He could still feel the pulsing from her orgasm around him. 

“Oh, God, yes,” she moaned, and she wrapped around him, her hands tangled in hair and her legs pulling him close, and he was so deep in the hot, wet center of her he felt like he was being swallowed up. She cried out as he came, finally filled up and sated. 

She put her arms around him, cradling him and kissing his head. She pulled a blanket over them and smiled as he groaned and nuzzled her neck and they drifted to sleep tangled and sweaty in the the nest of blankets by the fire. 

 

She woke up the next morning a little disoriented. She was alone in a big pile of blankets in front of the cold fireplace. The rain had cleared up and the sun was bright through the window. She got some clothes and wandered out into a beautiful, clear day, following the sounds to find Christian chopping wood. He must have been at it a while, already sweating and with his shirt off. 

He looked up and smiled when she came around the corner. “Hey.”

“Hey, you. I slept in. How did you get out of the nest without waking me me up?” She pulled a patio chair closer to where he was working and sat down. 

“Very carefully. You were out cold, though.” 

“That was so much fun yesterday.” Jack came and jumped in her lap and she scratched his head, watching Christian. She enjoyed seeing the play of muscles in his back and arms and his strength as the wood flew apart under his blows. 

He stopped a moment, hefting the ax. “Yep, it sure was.” He looked at her, grinning, and started to say something, but then just shook his head and went back to work.

“What?” 

“I dunno. You just surprise me.” He looked at her sideways and his grin was more mischievous. “I liked being caught a lot more than I thought I would.” 

“You aren’t very good at it. You kept trying to get away.” He grinned and kept working. He was wearing jeans for this job, fitting snugly and riding low. He worked for about another half hour, picking up chunks of log he had sawn off earlier, setting them on end, and splitting them apart mostly with one swing. She knew that it was hard work and he was sweating, but not breathing hard. She bit her lip as she watched the muscles in his shoulders and arms, remembering how they felt and itching to get her hands on him. 

He swung the ax with a last thunk into the stump and left it there. “That’s enough for now. I’ll get the rest later.” He grabbed his shirt from where he had hung it on the wood pile and wiped his face. 

“I’ll take a turn.” Amanda shooed Jack from her lap and started toward the other ax leaning against the woodpile. 

“No, you won’t.” He frowned at her. 

“Christian, I chopped wood for three years before you showed up.” She hefted the ax in her hand. 

“Amanda. Back away from the ax.” He started toward her with long strides. She backed away a step, but stopped and allowed him to take it from her when he caught up to her. 

“I’m not helpless.” 

“I know that. I also know you almost cut your goddamn foot off, and I am standing right fucking here. I told you three days ago, you aren’t alone anymore.” 

“I’m sorry.” She stepped up and hugged him, but he didn’t budge. He lowered his head and looked at her with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. 

“Goddamit, Amanda.” She smiled up at him, but he did not soften or put his arms around her. Her heart was pounding and she wondered if he could feel it as well. “Are we going to have this argument again? I will get the goddamn firewood.” 

She hesitated. She knew she was being unreasonable but it was hard to give in. “Ok. You win. I will let you get the firewood.” 

“Thank you.” He took her shoulders and put her back away from him and walked toward the house. 

“Is it alright if I start the fire?” She yelled after him. 

“Have you ever set yourself on fire?” He hollered back. 

“No!” 

“Fine, then.” 

She shook her head as she gathered up tinder and logs from under the tarp and got the lighter from the porch to start the fire in the coil for the hot tub. She was indignant and mad, and also relieved and delighted. She knew he didn’t really think she was incapable; it was clear he admired and respected all she had done. She really honestly was glad to not have to chop firewood. And to be in a conversation with someone else, the back and forth, even if he was mad, made her feel almost giddy. Kind of happy, she decided, and the rush of adrenalin from getting him riled up was exciting. 

She got the fire going well, uncovered the hot tub and the dogs followed her into the house. She found him leaning on the island in the center of the kitchen with a glass of whiskey. He put it down and folded his arms when she came in, his face still grim. 

“Hi.” She saw broken glass on the floor at the base of the stainless steel fridge across from him and stopped in the doorway. “What happened here?” 

“Nothing.” He turned and poured another drink and threw it back. “I’m gonna go for a walk. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Ok. Um, the hot tub will be ready in a couple of hours.” 

He waved in acknowledgement and walked out, whistling for the dogs who scampered after him. She stood looking at the broken glass on the floor. It looked like it was one of the drinking glasses. She thought of his house in Nashville, shattered glass everywhere and holes in the walls. She turned her back and headed back out to the yard. 

About 30 minutes later the dogs came tearing around the corner of the house and he followed behind. She looked up from where she was setting out some washtubs next to the hot tub. 

“Hey,” she said. “You ok?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He came over and wrapped his arms around her from behind. She took a big breath and let it out. He definitely seemed more himself. “What are you up to?” he asked. 

“Hot tub day is a big day. Look -” she pointed at the dogs. Cody was dancing around their feet as usual, but Jack was trying to lay on the ground and scoot away at the same time. “He knows it’s bath day.” 

He chuckled, then loosened his hold on her and turned her around in his arms. “You OK?” he asked. 

“I’m fine.” He searched her eyes, his face serious. She repeated. “I’m fine. If you want to talk about it, that’s fine; if not, that’s OK too. Come on, it’s hot tub day.” She stepped out of his arms and pointed at the tubs. “Wash laundry, rinse laundry, wash dogs. This is why I wanted to let it fill up to the top - we’ll use the extra hot water.” 

She headed up to the bedroom and saw the broken glass was gone when she passed through the kitchen. He must had cleaned it up before he came back out to the yard. She came back out with a full laundry bag and dumped her clothes into one of the tubs. She put in soap and left it to wait for the hot water. 

“I see. I haven’t really been gathering up my dirty clothes.” Christian said. 

“I know. I’ve just been kicking them into a corner when they get in my way.” He raised his eyebrow. “I have another washtub if you want to wash up any of your stuff.” 

“Oh - sure, that’s a good idea. I’ll go get it.” He headed toward the house and she grinned. She wondered if just for a moment he thought she would offer to wash his clothes. 

She kept loading up the heating coil with wood and as the water got warm she washed the dogs in one of the tubs - Cody came right over, but once Jack got cornered he made himself as flat on the ground as possible and had to be scooped up and carried. She scooped hot water and filled up the tub with her clothes in it and stirred it up, dissolving the soap, and Christian followed her lead with his clothes. 

“Finally, our turn.” She got a plastic caddy of bottles from the porch and put it on a stool next to the tub and stripped off her clothes. He grinned as he always did whenever she unexpectedly got naked. She scooped a pitcher of hot water out of the tub and poured it over herself. “We do it Japanese style. Wash up and rinse off first, then soak. That way we don’t have to empty the water so often.” He watched her as she soaped up her hair and body and rinsed and did the same. It was her turn to watch when he stripped down; even after being together over a week and making love every day, she found it was still a thrill to watch him strip off his clothes in front of her. 

She stepped over the rim and sat down. “Ahhhh.” 

He rinsed off and climbed in. “Wow - that’s hot.”

“I like it hot. Ryan could hardly get in the shower with me.” 

He gingerly settled next to her, relaxing as he got used to it. “Oh, this is nice.” 

She stretched out her arms on the sides and put her head back. At two feet deep, it was just right for sitting down and letting the water come up to her shoulders. “I might stay here all day.” She let herself float and splashed across and back. At only six feet across it was more like a large kiddie pool than a hot tub, but still way better than a pitcher of lukewarm water. She floated over and sat on Christian’s lap, facing him. “Hi.”

“Well, hi.” He watched her breasts floating in in the water in front of him. She grinned and bobbed up and down. With an effort he pulled his eyes away and met her gaze. “I’m sorry about that in the kitchen.” 

“OK. I’m glad you cleaned up the glass.” 

“Sure.” He frowned and was about to say something else, but she put her head back in the water and let herself float. She just didn’t want to talk about it right now. 

He took her hand and tugged her gently through the water towards him. She turned over to sit on his lap again. “Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry I was a brat about the firewood.”

“That’s OK.” She put her arms around his neck and he had his hands at her waist, pulling her snug up against him and keeping her from floating away. He just looked at her, his blue eyes searching her face, until she was squirming under his gaze. 

“What?” she finally asked. 

“I was thinking about yesterday. I did not expect that, in the morning or in the nest. I wonder what other surprises you’re gonna have for me.” 

“I don’t really know, either. We’ll see.”

He hesitated but did not let go of her right away. “I just . .” he looked away and finally looked back at her. “About the fucking firewood. I don’t want you to get hurt. I wish you would trust me a little bit.”

“I trust you. It’s the rest of the universe I don’t trust. We have no control over anything, and we don’t know what happened to everyone else, or if we’re next. But,” she continued when he frowned, “I will not mess with the firewood or touch the ax, unless I’m bringing it out of the rain or something.” She held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.” 

“That’ll have to do for now, I guess,” he said. “Um -” he glanced toward the house. “Is there anything you . . .”

“Nope. You got mad, you cleaned it up, it didn’t involve me. I’m good.” 

“Hmmm. All right.” He let go and she floated away. 

They hung out in the little pool for a couple of hours, relaxing and playing and talking, taking breaks to scrub, rinse and hang the laundry, load more wood in the coil and jump back in. When they finally got out they were both very wrinkled. They got dressed and he helped her get everything put away. 

“That was great. I think I might go take a nap,” he said.

“Oh, good! Enjoy. I have something to start in the kitchen. I’ll catch up with you in a little while.” 

He came to her and wrapped her up in his arms. She closed her eyes and took in the feel of him and his fresh scent. “What a great couple of days. Thank you. Do you want to come keep me company?” 

“I will. I wanted to do some baking first.” 

“Yum.” He kissed her and headed upstairs. 

She grinned as she got out the flour and yeast, started the dough for pita bread and set it to rise. She set up the solar oven and mixed up chocolate oatmeal cookies. She had found that a tablespoon of chia seed soaked in water was a good enough substitute for eggs and extra light oil worked for butter. The chocolate chips were all spoiled but good Dutch cocoa powder was fine. 

The pizza stone preheating in the gas grill was nice and hot and she was flattening rounds of dough when Christian came in about an hour and half later. “I did not expect to sleep that long. I thought you were going to come keep me company.” 

She looked up and grinned. His hair was in wild waves from him going to bed with it wet. “I’m still cooking. Here.” She presented him with a plate of warm chocolate cookies. 

“Oh my God. Are you fucking kidding me.” He wolfed down several cookies. “Oh, wow.” 

“I’m glad you like them.” She rolled the last of the pita breads to about a quarter of an inch, opened the grill and dropped them on the pizza stone, closing the lid quickly to keep in the heat. 

“What are you making?” he asked. 

“Pita bread. Sometimes I can get them to turn out. I would love to have a wood-fired bread oven,” she said as she wiped her hands. “That would be so cool. I could do a lot more than I can with the grill.” 

“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.” 

“All right,” she said. “If you go figure out some sandwich fillings we’ll have lunch. Or dinner, or whatever this is.” 

“Are you kidding me?” he said again. He came over and grabbed her from behind, almost lifting her off her feet. She had put her hair up in ponytail while cooking and he kissed her neck, pulling her closer. 

“Mmmm. You get turned on by pita bread?” 

“I get turned on by this amazing woman.” 

Her breath caught and she shivered. She leaned back against him. 

“Oh my - wait, let go.” He backed up and she peeked in the grill, opened the lid, grabbed the puffy light brown rounds of bread with a pair of tongs and dropped them on a platter, covering it with a dishtowel. “Ok -” she closed the grill and turned it off, then turned to him. “Continue.” 

He laughed and stepped forward again, pulling her close and kissing on her neck. “I like it when your hair is up.” 

“Mmm - me too, apparently.” He was almost fierce as he kissed on her neck, tasting and nibbling and sucking on her, and his hands were firm all over her body until her knees were weak. “Oh my God, Christian. Wow.” 

“I think this is dinner and we should go to bed right after,” he said low and husky against her ear.

“Um, yes, me too.” He gave her a long, thorough kiss and finally stepped back, grinning when he had to hold her steady for a second. 

“I’ll be right back.” He grabbed a handful of cookies and headed for the pantry. 

She shook her head, grinning, as she got out plates and sliced the pita, pleased to see that it had worked and most of them had pockets. She couldn’t stop grinning in anticipation of going to bed right after dinner, even though it had to be only six or seven o’clock - she looked up at the window and saw it wasn’t even dark yet. He came up with his arms full and they had canned chicken with roasted red peppers, artichoke hearts, water chestnuts and seasonings tucked into the warm pitas. He had run out to the garden and had gotten some sorrel, celery leaves and parsley as well. 

“That’s so good. And that’s what you come up with in five minutes?”

“It’s the bread that makes it. This is amazing.” He ate another one, plain. “Tell you what. You go on and get ready and go on to bed, I’ll get this cleaned up and I’ll be right there.” 

“No, that’s . . .” He stopped and looked at her, eyes narrowed just a little. She stopped and took a breath. “Ok.” His wide smile made her grin in return. She took another drink of her wine and stood up, leaving her plate on the table. “See you in a few minutes.” 

When Christian came into the bedroom a few minutes later, she was under the covers and he noticed she hadn’t needed to light any candles with the daylight coming in the windows. He stripped and slid into bed and she smiled at him. 

“That was a busy day,” she said. She stretched her arms up over her head and rolled over in the bed to look at him, propped on his elbow facing toward her. “Thank you for having so much firewood ready. It was so nice to be able to stay in so long.” 

“Mmm. What a great day.” He reached up and ran his fingers down her arm. She smiled and half closed her eyes at his touch, down her arm and up her side. He cradled her cheek and his thumb brushed against her lips. As he kissed her shoulder she tilted her head back so he could kiss down into the curve of her neck. 

“I’m so relaxed right now - you might have to do most of the work tonight,” she murmured. 

“I can work with that.” He eased her to her back and moved the covers down so he could see her. He ran his hands down her body and she put her arms up over her head and sighed, relaxing into the bed and melting into his hands. Usually they were in flickering candlelight but he liked looking at her in early evening sunlight streaming through the windows, her skin still glowing from the hot tub. Every time he looked up from exploring her to catch her eye she smiled, like a cat, he thought, with half-shut eyes and her body completely relaxed under his touches. He touched her all over, following his touches with kisses. 

He swung over her, supporting his weight but containing her, and she grinned and arched her back and put her hands on his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex. Her head went back and her eyes closed and she moved under him. 

“Mmm - I love this.” She moaned, almost purred, as he kissed down her throat. 

“Me too.” He kissed on her neck, teasing the soft pulse point, until her breath was coming in little gasps and her hands twined in his hair, pulling with more force than she probably realized. He liked it, though, when she started to lose control under his touches. Her body to quivered under his. 

“And I love this, how hot you are for me.” He kissed his way down her body, and as his weight shifted off of her he felt her moving against him. 

He tickled her ribcage and stomach with his lips, sliding down. He brushed his fingers against her mound and she was so wet, as always, so ready for him. He kissed low on her stomach and caught the scent of her. He wanted to taste her so much - she had gone down on him so many times, and especially after yesterday’s amazing session he really wanted to reciprocate. Somehow in their almost two weeks together this was one intimate act that had not yet happened and he intended to remedy that. 

He had been thinking about it all day - his pulse was racing and his mouth watering now at the thought of tasting and exploring her. 

Her legs were slightly apart and her hips were moving. He ran his fingertips over her inner thigh, following it with kisses, and she moaned and her legs moved a little further apart. He kissed up her thigh and kissed her soft lips, groaning as he slid his tongue into her wetness to taste her. 

He felt her stiffen up and he froze a moment before she said, “Stop.” 

He pulled back. “What’s wrong?” 

“Don’t, please.” 

“Sure.” He slid up next to her and wrapped an arm around her. “You OK?” His heart was pounding for a different reason now. But she was meeting his gaze and smiling, though her body was still stiff. 

“Yeah,” she said. “I just don’t like that. I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s OK.” He pulled her close until her head was nestled against his chest, and he finally felt her relax. “I’m sorry, darlin’.” 

“It’s OK.” 

He scooted down to meet her gaze, and she smiled back at him and reached up to touch his face. She was still here, still with him. 

That’s good, he thought. I can work with this.

“It is amazing when you go down on me,” he said. “That was incredible yesterday. I’ve been thinking about it and I wanted to return the favor.” 

She chuckled a little. “Thanks. But I’ve never liked that.” 

“Alright. I’m glad you told me.” He kissed her hair. “I’m surprised, though. It seems like something you would like, as much as you love me touching you.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “Well, I don’t actually know if I don’t like it, or I’ve never been with someone who is any good at it.”

It took him a second to sort that out. “Ah.”

“I’ve never been with someone who seemed to enjoy it at all, I know that.” She hid her face against his chest. He frowned but managed to not say anything about anybody she had been with. 

“Amanda.” He waited until she looked up at him. “I enjoy it a lot. Like, a LOT.” He raised his eyebrow for emphasis.

She gave a little laugh. “I figured, since you wrote a song about it.”

“I did?”

“Isn’t that what  _ Sweet Carolina Rain _ was about?” she asked. 

“Oh, yeah.” He gave that sexy mischievous half-grin. “Could be.”   
“Yeah. And I bet you’re really good at it, too.” 

He shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t going to brag . . .” She chuckled against his chest. “So - can we try again, or . . .”

“No. Not right now.”

“Alright,” he said evenly. He noticed an odd reaction in himself and was careful not to show it. He couldn’t remember any other time she had told him no about sex. “Are . . . you still up for something?” 

“Oh, yeah.” She grinned, pulled him close and whispered, “I would love to feel you inside of me. That’s my favorite part.” He rolled with her and was kissing her and got lost in the sensation of her against him and around him and they got lost in the universe together. 


	9. Chapter 9 - Getting in the Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some almost normal days. And fun on the kitchen counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian Kane or Lambert dark cherry preserves with merlot.

It was barely daylight when they awoke the next day. “Why are we awake so early?” he groaned.

“That’s what happens when you drag me off to to bed at seven o’clock.” She burrowed next to him. “It’s too cold to get up yet, though.” 

“I don’t know how you sleep under all these covers.” He took the top blanket and flipped it back over onto her. 

“I used to have Ryan warm up my side of the bed,” she said. “He would go to bed before me and get on my side, and when I came to bed he would slide over and my side would be all warm.” 

“That was nice of him.” 

“Yep.” She turned over so her back was cuddled up against Christian’s chest and he wrapped his arm around her. “Then one Christmas he got me an electric blanket and didn’t have to do that any more.” 

“Mmm.” He scooped her hair out of the way and kissed her shoulder. 

“I used to sleep under six blankets. I couldn’t move, but I was warm.” 

He tickled her neck with his three-day beard and she caught her breath and shivered. “You only have two or three blankets here.” 

“That’s because you are like a radiator. I’m plenty warm when we sleep all cuddled up like this. When I was by myself I had the bed lined with fuzzy blankets and piled up high on top of that,” she said. 

“Hmm.” He scooted up more firmly against her and she could feel his warmth along her whole body. She sighed and ran her fingers along his arm that was tucked over her. A few moments later he asked softly, “You and Ryan didn’t cuddle?” 

She took a breath and let it out. She felt a tightening in her chest, but it was just a question, a natural question, and she didn’t have to start thinking about what it meant. “When we were first married, we would wake up all tangled and sweaty like this. Then he started snoring and we started sleeping facing away from each other on the edges of the bed. I’m really glad you don’t snore because you would be sleeping in another room.” 

“Huh. I am really glad, too, then.” He was quiet, tracing his hand over her belly and thigh and back up her arm. “Damn, I hadn’t thought of that. I would not have cared for that.” 

She turned over in his arms. “What?” 

She could barely see him in the growing sunrise but it was enough to make out his blue eyes. “You know that first night, when I asked if you were sure you wanted me in here? I was hoping to hell you weren’t going to take me up on that. That was about the longest minute in my life, waiting for you to answer.” 

“Really?” 

“Be in some other cold bed in this place, knowing you were in here? Yes, ma’am.”

She grinned and cuddled up against him. He rolled to his back with her in his arms. “All right, bossy, what are we up to today?” 

“Huh. I should just tell you I’m going to work on the puzzle all day.” She got up on an elbow and looked at him, brushing his hair back. “With the rain we get to start weeding the vegetables, and I need to put up my rabbit defenses soon. But the only thing left on the list from the other day is to sort out the pantry and get all the groceries organized.” 

She smiled at him and bit her lip for a second. “I was thinking - um, that would be fun for us to do together. Then you can see what all we have and we can put together a grocery list.” 

His grin lit up his face. “I would love that.” 

She hid her face again on his chest and could feel her heart speed up. She knew he wasn’t excited about the groceries as much as that she had asked him to help instead of doing it herself. It would be fun together and he did so much of the cooking, after all. 

“You OK?” he asked. 

She realized she was still hiding. She looked up and met his gaze. “Yes.” 

He smiled back and cradled her cheek. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

She nodded. “It’s getting easier.” 

 

After dressing and eating he wanted them to start right on the groceries. She explained they needed to sort out what they used most to stock the kitchen cupboards and get everything else sorted and stored in the basement. It took a while because there was stuff everywhere - some food was still in the van and the truck, some dumped in the living room, and some piled downstairs. They brought several lanterns down to the pantry and set them all around on the shelves. They were both excited and coming up with meal ideas as she found things she forgot about and he discovered new treasures. 

“Look at this - artichoke bruschetta, sundried tomato bruschetta, olive bruschetta - oh, that will be good.” He scooted some other jars over to make room. 

“Pick one out, I’ll make some bread later.” 

“Hell, yeah.” He grabbed the olive and the tomato topping and added them to the stack to take upstairs. 

“Here, try this.” She pulled a piece of jerky out of the bag and held it up to him and he nibbled it out of her hand. “Smoked chipotle with apple beef jerky.” 

“Oh, man. That’s good. Here -” He grabbed a jar he had put aside to take upstairs and opened it. “Lambert dark cherry preserves with merlot. I wanted to try this.” He stuck his finger in the jar and scooped up some of the dark red jam and popped it in his mouth. “Mmm - that’s good, too.” 

“Let me try.” She stepped up to him. He gave a mischievous grin and stuck two fingers in the preserves, scooping some up and holding it out to her. She looked him in the eye as she took his hand and put her mouth over his fingers, licking off the jam and using her tongue to probe between his fingers to get the last of the sticky juice. Her eyes never left his as she sucked on his fingers while slowly pulling them out of her mouth. “Yum.” 

“Wow.” He swallowed hard, then dipped his finger in again and held it up. “Do you want some more?” 

“Mmm.” She stepped right up against him as she took his finger in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, holding his fascinated gaze, stroking his finger with her tongue as she slid it out of her mouth. “Yummy. Good jam. It’s one of my favorite things.” 

“Holy shit.” He blindly reached out and put the jar on a shelf as he leaned in to kiss her. She met him with her mouth open and twined her tongue around his, swirling as she had done with his finger and he could taste the sweet jam. He groaned and she felt his hand on her head pulling her closer but she was as aggressive as he was, biting his lip and sliding her tongue past his. She found herself up against the wall with him pressing against her, braced against the wall and kissing her. 

He finally raised his head but kept her pinned against the wall. “You better behave or you’ll get in trouble.” 

“Promise?” She pulled the tie out of his hair and let it fall loose, running her hands through it and pulling him down for another kiss. 

They eventually got back to stocking shelves, though Christian did stop and look around, hand in his hair, to see if anything could be done right then. There was only concrete floor and industrial shelves until they went back upstairs. 

It took several trips upstairs to load up the kitchen cupboards, and Amanda grinned at Christian as she held up the cherry preserves. She opened the jar, scooped some out with her finger and put it in her mouth, licking it off but purposely leaving a spot of jam on her lower lip. “Oops.” 

“You need help with that?” In a few steps he was on her, hands on her shoulders and kissing her, sucking on her lip, nibbling, tasting. She clung to his shirt with two hands while his hand went around her head, pulling her closer, kissing her deeper. When he finally raised his head, breathing hard, she was backed up against the counter and his hands were in the waistband of her pants, pulling her up firm against him and she could feel how hard he was. She pulled at his T-shirt and he yanked it off and she kissed his neck, soaking in the warmth and taste of him, frantic, touching him everywhere she could reach. He slid her shirt over her head and kissed behind her ear and down to her neck, his bare chest pressing against her breasts. 

“Oh my God,” she gasped. He slid her pants down and she kicked them off, and she yelped when he lifted her up onto the counter. “It’s cold,” she said at his look. He looked around, breathing hard, but all there was in reach was a dishtowel. 

“That’s OK, I’m fine. Here -” She pulled him close, kissing him while he tried to get out of his pants, giggling when he started to lose his balance and she had to catch him. He kicked them out of the way and put a knee up on the counter, climbing up next to her and easing her back, but she yelped again and jumped when the cold stainless steel touched her back. 

“Goddammit,” he said but they were both laughing as they tried to maneuver naked on the wide counter. He finally lay on his back and took her hips to guide her over him. 

“Ah, there we go, darlin’,” he sighed as she lowered herself on him and he filled her up. His T-shirt was in reach so she grabbed it and put it under his head as she leaned forward on him. He grinned at her. 

“I’m fine. It’s not that cold,” he said, teasing. 

“You probably don’t know this about me, but I hate to be cold.” She braced her hands on his chest and lifted up until the whole hard length of him was was just barely in her, against her, and lowered down on him, feeling him spread her open, receiving him. Again and again, filling herself up, him thrusting up to meet her. She leaned forward and they moved together, him holding her hips and moving them both, gathering momentum and climaxing together. She lay on his chest as their breathing slowed and he held her close. 

She lifted her head and looked at him, grinning. “That was really fun, but not quite the graceful dance it usually is.” 

He grinned back. “There’s always a critic. Ok, now I’m getting cold.” They got down and got dressed, laughing as they found their clothes thrown all over the kitchen. He pulled her close and leaned up against the counter. 

“I guess we need to put a mattress or at least blankets in every room in the house now,” she said. 

“I guess. That wasn’t bad, though, was it?” he asked. 

“That was great. I’m going to remember that one.” She hugged him tight and rested her head on his chest. “Mmm. My second favorite spot.” His arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and she felt him kiss her hair. 

“I love how you are just up for anything. I can’t believe this,” he murmured. 

They finally finished up the kitchen and pantry and Amanda scrubbed off the counter, grinning the whole time. He came up behind her and kissed her neck where she had her hair up again. “All right, bossy, now what?” 

“You’re in a silly mood.” She dropped the cloth and turned around in his arms. 

“Yep. Wanna do that again?” 

“Sure!” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “We should go weed the garden and plant the beans in the three sisters, but I don’t feel like it.” She grinned and tilted her head. “Road trip?” 

“You don’t feel like it, huh? You just walk away and do whatever you want?” His voice was stern, but he couldn’t hide a grin. 

“Yep!” 

“Good idea,” he said. “Where we goin’?”

“I wanna get the mower and chainsaw and I need shoes. Oh, and I really do want to get a daybed or something for the parlor - that fancy-schmancy loveseat sucks.” 

“All right! I’m gonna like this shopping trip.” 

She told him the rest of the plan - usually she made an expedition of it, bringing the dogs and planning to stay away at least overnight, sleeping in a department store or nice house and hitting lots of stores. “We can split up if you want, you can go look at manly stuff like tools or whatever while I’m at Yankee Candle.” 

He enjoyed the preparations at first, cleaning out the truck and helping her with the shopping list for groceries and other goods but he started getting impatient. 

“You know what? Can we stop at a sporting goods store, or something like that?” 

“Sure. What do you need?” she asked. 

“I want to get some weights. I’m gonna to start working out again.” He looked over at her grin. “What?” 

“Oh my God. Can I watch?” 

“Are you kidding me? What is wrong with you?” But he was grinning. 

“Gosh, I don’t know. I guess I just like watching a gorgeous man with all these muscles working out.” She ran her hand down his arm. 

“Fine. Are you ready to go yet?” 

“Christian, I swear, if you ask me that one more time . . . the preparation is part of the fun. Go chop wood or something if you’re so antsy.” 

He did wander off for a while but came back, a little settled down, to help her get ready. He found her packing a backpack. “Now what?” he asked. 

“My walkabout bag.” She opened it up to show him. “Everything I might need. Pliers, scissors, water, snacks, dog treats, flashlight, first aid,” she poked through. “Oh, a whistle to call the dogs if they get out of sight. Chalk.” She looked up and saw his expression. “What?” she asked, exasperated. 

“You’re funny,” he said. 

She looked at him another moment. “You are right now not asking when we are leaving, aren’t you?” 

“Yep!” 

They rinsed the sprouts again right before they left to hold them over until they got back and hit the road, the dogs excited to be in the extended cab behind them. The first stop was Sears to get the lawn mower and chainsaw. 

“You don’t have to hang out with me,” Christian said. “You can go look at clothes or whatever, I’ll find ya.” 

“Nah, this is fun. You’re like a little kid.” She grinned as he pulled out one machine after another, describing all the features to her and debating with himself which ones best met their needs and would be easiest to repair. He finally had it all figured out and wheeled a huge self-propelled push mower out to the truck while she followed with a cart piled high with spare parts, tools and the chainsaw. 

“That was fun,” she said as she handed him the boxes to pack into the truck. 

“Yes, it was. I need to trust you more about these expeditions, I guess.”

She felt her grin widen and was surprised at the jolt of pleasure she felt. “I was thinking Ikea for the bed, but let’s check while we are here.” Sure enough, they had daybeds and it took her about five minutes to pick out a wooden mission-style bed, packed flat for home assembly. 

“That was quick!” Christian said. 

“I don’t care what it looks like, I just want something big enough for both of us so I don’t end up on the floor every time you start something in the parlor.” 

“Every time  I start something!” He caught her waist and had her up against a shelf for some kisses before they could continue. He took the bed and mattress to the truck and met her in the bedding department, just shaking his head when he saw in the cart that in addition to a comforter, sheet set and pillows for the new daybed was a big pile of soft blankets. 

“Anything else while we’re here?” she asked. “What about kitchenware - Christian, was there anything missing from the kitchen you would like to have?” 

“I can’t think of a single thing - but you know what, while we’re here we might as well look.” 

“There you go!” She grinned. “Now you’re getting in the spirit!” 

They browsed kitchenware and homegoods, picking up a few things but mostly teasing each other and stealing kisses. They ended up in women’s wear. 

“All right.” She turned the lantern up and set it on a shelf. “I’m shoe shopping, so this will get boring. Go browse or something and come back in a while. Oh - here -” She dug the walkie-talkie out of her backpack in the cart, made sure it was working, and handed it to him. “Have fun.” 

“Um - Ok.” He seemed a little at a loss. 

“Go look at auto or fitness or camping or something. Shoe shopping is something a woman does alone.” She waved him off. 

She quickly found the athletic shoes and sport sandals she was looking for - again, she didn’t care what they looked like, only that they were comfortable. She found herself poking through the cowboy boots. She had never worn a pair before but pulled on several, setting the lantern by the mirror to see what they looked like. She grinned as she picked out several pairs and put them back in their boxes so Christian would not see. 

She grabbed stacks of her staple clothing - comfortable pants and shorts, wicking shirts, tank tops, light jackets and sweaters, long-sleeved shirts, light airy sundresses, and underwear. She had a whole bedroom stacked full of clothes already at Laurel Court but it made her feel safer to have stockpiles for when she got stranded, plus it was nice to be able to pitch something if she was tired of it or didn’t feel like washing it. Sometimes she went and tried on fancy formal clothing and jewelry for fun, but today she was eager to catch up with Christian. 

She unclipped the walkie-talkie from her belt. “Hi. handsome. Where are you?” 

She heard a crackle of static, and then, “I’m in, let’s see - outdoor play, behind toys.” 

“Ok, I’ll meet you there.” She found him pulling a mountain bike out of a display. 

“Hey. You wanna get a trampoline?” he asked. 

“Sure.” She laughed when he jumped on the bike and rode it down the aisle. “You’re having fun, it looks like.” 

“Yep. Do we have any bikes at the place?” 

“Nope,” she said. 

“Let’s grab some. It’ll be fun and save us on gas and wear and tear on the cars if we don’t have to go far.” He went and got a bolt cutter from the tool department to free up more bikes and they rode them up and down the aisles, deciding which ones they wanted. 

He challenged her to a race and she felt like a kid as they chased each other around the store. She finally picked a touring bike and he got a crossover and they loaded them up, with Christian going back for tools and parts for maintenance. 

Next was lunch and the sporting goods store for his weights, and this time he sent her off.

“A man shops for a weight bench alone,” he teased. He dropped her off at a Yankee Candle and came back an hour or so later, wordlessly shook his head and helped her load a hundred or so big jarred candles into the truck. 

“We’re almost done for the day,” she said. “Let’s hit that Meijer. We’ll grab some groceries, and figure out dinner. I brought a portable camping stove if we want something hot.” 

“You always think ahead,” he said. 

“A little bit ahead. Not too far.” The truck was getting full but they managed to squeeze in some groceries and decided to camp at Bed Bath and Beyond. She left him setting up the camp stove in the kitchenware department while she explored the store. 

She found a display of battery operated micro lights, strings of 10 tiny lights on wire about a foot apart. She opened a few and they still worked. “Oh, cool!” She scooped up all of them, carried them to the bedding department, and picked out one of the sample beds set up to display the patterns on the comforters. She pulled everything off the bed, put on a three inch featherbed mattress topper and then made it back up. She took her lantern and went back to the stock room to find a ladder and started dragging it across the floor, then stopped and sighed. She dropped it and went to the kitchenware section. 

“Hey, Christian. Can you help me with something?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” He took the pan off the little stove and turned it down. “What do you need?” 

She led him back to the stock room. “Can you take that ladder to bedding?”

“Um, sure. Why?” 

“It’s a surprise.” He seemed inclined to hang around, but she gave him a kiss and sent him back to cooking with instructions to not come back until she came for him. She got the ladder set up next to the bed and got an armful of bed canopies, made of sheer fabric with a hoop and hook at the top, designed to drape around a bed. She had picked a bed that had a column nearby and she was up hanging the last of the canopies to drape around the bed when her walkie-talkie crackled. 

“Hey. Food’s ready.” 

She climbed down and unclipped her walkie. “On my way.” They enjoyed their dinner and she was glad to see that Christian looked relaxed and seemed to be enjoying himself. 

“All right,” she said as they cleaned up. “I’m setting up a surprise in the bedding department, and I need a little more time. Can you go keep yourself busy for a while?” 

He said right away, “Sure, darlin’,” but then he looked around. “I don’t think there’s much for me to see in here. What if I take the truck and explore a little? I wanna see what else is around here.” 

“Perfect. I don’t know how far the walkies work, so just come back in an hour or so. Let me know when you get close, though,” she added, holding up the radio. 

After he left she scurried back to bedding and finished her surprise, put a pile of blankets on the floor for the dogs, browsed the bath goods to pick out several fancy gels and creams, and took a water-jug shower in the stockroom over a drain.

She had just finished getting dressed when her walkie crackled. “I’ll be back in a minute.” 

“Perfect. I’ll meet you out front.” She double-checked that she had moved the ladder back out of sight and came out the front door just as he pulled up. As he stepped down from the truck she ran over and jumped into his arms, pulling his head down for a kiss, while the dogs danced at their feet. 

He was laughing when she pulled back. “Jesus. What kind of a welcome would I get if I was gone for two hours?” 

“I’m excited to show you the surprise.” She grabbed his hand and led him into the store and around the corner. “Ta-da!” 

“Wow,” he said. She had layered eight sheer bed canopies to hang down around the bed, mounded with the feather bed topper, comforters and pillows. In between all the thin layers of curtain she had pinned about three dozen strings of the micro lights, all lit up. In the dark store it looked like the bed was floating in a cloud of fireflies or stars. She had slid a nightstand under the canopy next to the bed and it held drinks, snacks and several kinds of lotion and massage oil. 

“Isn’t that fun? I was so excited to find those lights.” She turned, grinning, to see his reaction. 

“That’s beautiful, Amanda.” He slid an arm around her, looking down at her. His eyes and lines around his mouth had softened and her heart skipped a beat to see the sweet smile and the way he looked at her. “That will be fun.” 

“You have to be naked to get in, though,” she said as she tugged on his shirt. 

He laughed. “Let me take care of that. I wanna get cleaned up, too. I did a lot of hauling stuff around today.” He went off with a jug of water and, after dubiously going through her collection of soaps, a spruce and pine shower gel. While she waited she took off her clothes and parted the curtains to climb into the bed. She had spread a luxurious leopard print plush throw blanket on top and she lay with her arms and legs spread out, wiggling slowly all over the blanket to feel the soft fibers on her skin. 

“Wow.” She looked over to see Christian standing at the foot of the bed, a wide smile on his face. “Now there’s a picture.” 

She crawled over and found the opening in the curtains for him to come in. “Welcome.” 

He stripped off his clothes and climbed in, crawling right over top of her until he tumbled her, laughing, to her back. “Thanks.” 

She grinned as she wiggled around on the soft, furry blanket and he propped up on one elbow, smiling down at her, the length of him pressed up against her, running his hand down over her breast and down to her hip, leaving a trail of shivers. “Isn’t this nice?” 

“Yes, it is,” he said, softly, never taking his eyes from her. 

“Here,” she tugged on him. “Turn around. Look up.” He did as she asked and they lay side by side, fingers twined together. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s beautiful.” 

The tiny lights were filtered through the sheer material and it was as if the glow of a bright full moon shone on them. “Hang on.” She went back to the bottom of the bed and adjusted the curtains so the bed was surrounded again. “There. We’re floating in space.” She crawled back up and kneeled next to him. “Mmm.” She leaned over and nuzzled his neck. “You smell good. I like that pine and spruce bath stuff. You smell bracing, like the great outdoors.” 

He put one hand on the back of her head, cradling her, and the other other hand slipped down her body as she leaned over him. She stayed there a minute, kissing and nibbling and nestling into his neck, enjoying his hands exploring her breasts. He finally laughed and pulled his head away a little. “What are you doing?”

“Smelling you. I really like that bath gel.” She sat up again. “Can I just look at you?”

He grinned, that sweet sexy half grin, confident and mischievous, and put his hands behind his head. “I can’t stop ya, I guess.”

His hair was damp and wavy spread out on the pillow, he was clean-shaven, his blue eyes took her in and even now, after everything he had been through, you could see how much he smiled and laughed from the lines around his eyes. She realized that her tongue was out licking her bottom lip as she looked at his full, soft lips and she bit her lip when he caught that and grinned at her. 

She traced along his ear - there was the hole for the earring he used to wear. She stroked his hair and traced her fingers over his face. 

“This one,” she said, touching the scar above his left eyebrow, “Was from  _ Leverage _ . I remember when you got it - you had an interview, it was still healing up. It was cut to the bone, they said. I forget what season -”

“Two, I think,” he said, 

“This and this -” she touched the two scars on his lip - were from  _ Secondhand Lions _ .” He smiled at her as she leaned over him. “What’s this one?” She kissed the scar at the corner of his mouth. 

“ _ Leverage.” _

While she was there she kissed down to his neck and then continued her observations. “This one?” A crescent-shaped faint silver line was on his upper right chest. 

“I flipped a quad when I was 14, right after we moved to Oklahoma. Landed on a surveyor’s stake. Damn thing shoulda killed me.”

She kissed it and worked her way down. “Wow - what was this?” A long raised scar traced the back of his right hand. 

“A year or two ago, I forget. I was trying to move something and a corner of this big piece of sheet metal caught me.”

She kissed up his hand, stopping at a irregular scar on his arm. “Is this from when you broke your arm on  _ Into the West _ ?” 

“Now how did you know that?” he asked. “Yes, ma’am.” 

She worked her way down and back up, stopping to ask and touch and kiss every part of him. She stopped to catch his eye a few times but he was always just watching her, a slight smile on his face, no sign of impatience or boredom. 

On his left leg there was no scar on the skin but she ran her hand over his shin again. “There’s a bump on the bone - is that where you broke your leg on - wait, not  _ Into the West _ . The other western - oh,  _ Donner Party. _ ” 

“Now how the hell could you know that?” But his voice was mild and soft. 

“After I heard about this,” she ran her hand over his leg, “I watched it again, but I didn’t see any stunts that were that rough. How did it happen?” 

“We were filming on that mountain, in the snow. We were hiking through a storm, and I was supposed to help this one woman up over these big logs. She was supposed to slip and I caught her, but my foot went out and my leg slipped down between these two big trees and my body kept going and just snapped it.” He grinned. “Guess they cut that part.” 

“Wow.” She scooted back up and lay next to him and he turned sideways so they lay facing each other, bare bodies pressing together. “You been beat up, boy.” 

“Yep.” He slowly ran his hand up and down her body. “Part of the job.” His fingers trailed down over her hip. He glanced down and then rubbed at the goosebumps on her arm. “Do you need a blanket?” 

“Nope, I’m not cold. Those goosebumps are from you.”

“Aw, darlin’.” He grabbed the leopard print throw and pulled it up over her anyway and her grin widened - he was going to take care of her whether she liked it or not. He cuddled in and kissed on her neck, and she relaxed and enjoyed it - for once it wasn’t sending her into a frenzy. They talked a little but mostly just cuddled and and touched. 

When they started getting sleepy she stood up on the bed and sorted through the layers of netting, turning off most of the lights, leaving just a few lit. 

“Now, that’s a picture,” Christian said again, grinning as she climbed around the bed and stepped over him, nude. She settled next to him under the covers and they drifted off wrapped up together under a few stars.


	10. Chapter 10 - It's a Present When You Take Your Shirt Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So how does he feel about Rule Number 7?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own Christian Kane or his name.

Chapter 10

She woke to the sweaty warmth of Christian up against her and the glow of the few strands she had left lit, just enough light to make out the contours of his face and contrast of his hair. They were too far from the windows at the front of the store to catch any light, so she had no idea what time it was.

It’s a good thing it doesn’t matter, she thought drowsily and then moved her arm so his head slid down to the pillow. She dipped her head into the hollow and kissed on his neck, closing her eyes and rubbing her face against the soft skin, nuzzling and breathing deep.

“Mmm,” she heard and his arms came around her. “That’s nice.”

“You feel good.” He rolled to his back and she rolled with him, still snuggling against his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asked sleepily.

“Smelling you.”

“Amanda, stop a second.” He tried to shift her next to him.

“You should stop smelling so good, then.” But she scooted over to his side and propped up on an elbow. “Hi, handsome.”

“Hi, beautiful.” He stretched. “Wow. I slept so good last night.”

“Good.”

He turned and grinned at her. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time.”

“I was so excited that you liked my surprise,” she said.

He chuckled. “I got a kick out of how excited you were about it. You were like a little kid.”

It was well into the morning by the time they started their day, but neither of them were too concerned about that. Amanda enlisted his help to take down the bed canopies, lights and all, and pack them in truck. He protested, though, when she came out with a big stack of oversized premium bath towels. “There’s no room, and we have towels back home.”

“Those are getting smelly. We need clean ones.”

“We could just wash those,” he pointed out.

She plopped the towels on the tailgate. “Well, sir, I don’t feel like spending a day washing towels. Do you? Anyway, when they line dry they’re all stiff and scratchy.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Shaking his head and grinning he found space for the towels. His mouth dropped when she came out with blankets, but he didn’t say anything when she first took the blankets from Sears out of the truck and threw them into the store, using the space for the fuzzier, he noticed, Bed Bath and Beyond blankets. He couldn’t get the tailgate closed between the mower, bikes, weight bench and everything else, so he just made sure it all was secure and wouldn’t fly out.

“Ok,” he said. “I think we’re good. Are we good?”

“Yes.” She threw a couple treats to each dog and dropped her backpack on the seat in the truck, then came around to him and stepped into his arms. “I think we are very good.” She leaned her back up against the truck and pulled him against her. “This was great. You are such a good sport.”

He laughed and settled against her. “What does that mean?”

“That was goofy last night, and you were so sweet about it.”

“Naw, baby.” She was surprised to see a frown of concern. “That was great. I’m impressed that you can find things to be excited about, with all this.” He waved a hand at the world around them. “I wouldn’t miss a second of it.”

She felt a lump in her throat and couldn’t meet his concerned gaze another moment. She ducked her face against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“What, darlin’?” He stroked her hair.

She just shook her head, not looking up. She wasn’t sure herself what got to her about this. He turned so he was leaning against the truck and she was pulled up against him and he just held her close.

She had been so determined to not give herself up or hide if she found another person, and it turned out with him she didn’t have to, and probably couldn’t if she tried. There was no impatience, or judging, or waiting for her to run out of steam so he could go do something more interesting. He seemed so delighted with everything about her, and the only times he was upset with her was when she shut him out or he wanted to help her.

She had no way to say any of this to him, and even now he just held her, accepting her silence, and she was tucked safe into his arms. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes.

“You OK?” he asked. She could feel the rumble of his voice as she leaned against his chest. She nodded and looked up and he searched her face, finally nodding. “All right, sweetheart. What next?”

“I have one more stop. Is there anything you want to do?”

“Nope, can’t think of a thing,” he said. “I will follow you anywhere, though.”

She had to close her eyes again for just a second. “You’re going to make me cry again.” He had his head tilted with that questioning look when she looked at him again. “OK. Bookstore, and then lunch.”

She directed him to Half-Price Books. “Oh, shoot,” she said as they pulled up. She looked behind at the bed of the truck. “I forgot the truck is full.”

“We got room for some books.”

She grinned. “How many?”

She found a box in the back of the store and started packing the big historical romances that she liked to read. She turned and caught sight of Christian holding his lantern high and browsing a couple aisles over. She stood and watched him. His hair was tied back but the waves of the ponytail down his back couldn’t be tamed. He was in some snug gray joggers that showed off his ass a lot better than the loose jeans he usually wore. He reached up to get a book and she saw the muscles in his arms and shoulders strain against the T-shirt. She bit her lip as she thought about the jam in the kitchen the previous day. Grinning, she dumped the romance novels out of the box and headed for the science fiction section.

She looked over the books and sighed. I guess I’m living in a science fiction novel, too, she thought. She dropped the box and headed over to where Christian was, put down her lantern and hugged him from behind, closing her eyes and resting on his back, feeling him lay his warm hands over hers. “Hi. You find something good?”

“Nah,” she said. “I can’t decide. I have plenty of books at the estate. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“OK, I’m ready.” He picked up a bag with a few books.

“What did you find?” she asked.

He grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, goody!” She smiled and slipped an arm around his waist.

“Do you want to stop for lunch?” he asked.

“No, it’s early enough. Let’s just go back.”

“You’re the boss.” He was looking for her reaction and his grin widened at the indignant look she gave him. Cody trotted out of the parking lot to them, but there was no sign of Jack. Amanda called twice, then got the whistle out of her bag and gave a piercing shriek that made Christian jump. Within seconds Jack came tearing around the corner of the building and joined Cody in dancing around for his treats.

“Impressive,” Christian said.

“First thing I taught them - whistle means lots of treats. I figure they can hear it for miles and I don’t have to worry about losing them.” She opened the truck door and they jumped in.

“Good thinking.”

Back at Laurel Court there was plenty to do. They grabbed lunch, got the truck partly unpacked, and Amanda wanted to get the daybed set up in the parlour. There was plenty of room to scoot the loveseat back out of the way and they got the daybed unpacked, figured out and put together in front of the fireplace in no time.

“Ryan and I once built a metal shed together,” she told Christian as they picked up the styrofoam packing material and cardboard. “He said it was the biggest test to our marriage - I don’t know about that, but we did get on each other’s nerves. You are really easy to work with - I noticed it when we were working on the garden, too.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He looked at her a moment, then his grinned widened and he ducked his head. “Wow. Thanks.”

She raised an eyebrow at his reaction. “What?”

“Nothin’. It’s just - that was sweet. I’m glad.” He busied himself with taking the trash out.

She frowned after him. I wonder what that was about, she thought. He worked with people all the time, and all she had ever heard was that he was a joy to work with. She got the daybed made up while he pulled the truck around and got the mower, chainsaw, bikes and all the tools and parts set up in the carriage house.

When he came back in she showed off the bed, all made up with, of course, extra cozy blankets. “Come here, let’s try it out.” She beckoned him over.

“Yes, ma’am!” He walked toward her, pulling his shirt off as he went.

She grinned and sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s like a present every time you take off your shirt.”

“What?” He lay back and reached up to pull her down next to him.

“Any other male celebrity you can think of, if you googled their name and ‘shirtless’, there was pages of pictures. Anybody - George Clooney, George Strait, your friend David Boreanaz - but you.” She cuddled up to him, reaching up to touch his face, then down over his shoulder and arm. “No gratuitous nudity at all. Hell, Timothy Hutton had more shirtless pictures than you did. Your Kaniacs were very disappointed. And now I get to be with you like this all the time.”

He shook his head with a half grin and rolled to his back. “Now I feel like I should go put on a shirt.”  

She curled up with her head on his shoulder and he put one arm around her and the other behind his head. “What was that like? Being a sex symbol?” she asked.

He scoffed. “Yeah. I worked it, I played to it, but I never really got it. I wanted to work, I wanted to act, but I was just some kid from Oklahoma. It was kind of bizarre.”

“But you’re so gorgeous, at every age,” she said. “We talked a lot among ourselves about how hot you are and what we liked about you. I imagine you heard comments, too.”

“Oh, hell, yeah. Mostly ya’ll were really sweet. Sometimes it got a little out of line.” He chuckled. “There’d be these girls at the conventions, and sometimes they like couldn’t speak. It’d be their turn, and they’d look at me and open their mouths, and just couldn’t fucking talk. I’d try to remind myself, here I am taking pictures with 200 people - mostly women - but this was really special for them. That was sweet.” He shook his head again. “I got my ass grabbed more times than I can count, though, during those pictures.”

“I heard Rule Number 7 got you in trouble.” In his song _House Rules_ , he sang ‘Rule number seven says don’t touch the women, but they can grab whatever they want to.’

“Yeah, that happened a few times,” he said. “Always someone really fucking drunk. When I was in a wild crowd, especially after a concert, I usually had someone nearby to try to head some of that off.”

“We were always indignant when we heard about it. On the Facebook Vote and Promote and Kaniacs pages, there would be discussion - and you know what? I think it was in the policies for both, too - that you were a real person, and to be respectful, and to watch our language, and you were sharing your talent with us and you were so gracious about being accessible to fans, and don’t be assholes about it.”

“Well, that’s sweet. I guess I will leave my shirt off for you.”

She chuckled. “My favorite was I think on Vote and Promote. It said no bad language, unless you were quoting Christian, because ‘fuck’ was his favorite word.”

He grinned. “I guess so.”

“OK.” She got up on an elbow and looked at him. “I loved watching videos of you doing _House Rules_ live, because you would demonstrate exactly what to grab. The One More Shot Two concert, I think? You had a whole conversation. You stopped the song, moved your guitar, and grabbed yourself, and yelled, ‘Is that what we’re talking about?’ You turned to the other guy on stage and said, ‘You have to grab your cock.’ You said it twice. Then you apologized, and said, ‘No, they love it. Trust me.’ They went nuts.”

She ran her hand down his chest to his thigh. “Fuuuuuck. I watched that video so many times. I couldn’t believe I was watching you say that. I imagined so many scenarios of hearing you say some version of that.”

He turned to face her on the bed and his grin was naughty. “Like, ‘Do you want to grab my cock?’” He slid his hand down and grabbed her ass and pulled her up against him.

“Or ‘Do you want to suck on my cock?’” she said, pushing against him in return.

He tilted his head with that glint in his eye. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

His grin was almost predatory. “I couldn’t believe I was getting away with that shit when I started it. But then it got to where they were disappointed if I didn’t.”

“I bet. But that’s what was so fun - I’ve told you this before. You were so sweet at the interviews, and this bad-ass ‘fuck you’ in your concerts.”

He rolled her to her back, his arm behind her head, his weight half on her. His eyes searched hers. She just relaxed in his arms, meeting his gaze and letting him drink her in without hiding. “It’s so strange to think about all that now,” he said finally.

“You shared so much with so many people. It meant a lot to them. It meant a lot to me,” she said. He looked at her a few more moments then kissed her, soft and sweet and searching. She put her hand on the back of his head and just reveled in it, smelling and tasting and feeling him, He lifted his head and looked at her, his blue eyes soft.

“Wow,” she said softly. He smiled and lay down, resting his head on her and she cradled him against her chest. “I like this,” she said.

“Me too.” She felt a deep sigh and felt him settle on her as he relaxed. “The cherry jam was just yesterday, wasn’t it?” he asked. “Hell, that seems like a week ago.”

“Yep. It’s been a busy couple of days.”

“It was a great couple of days.” He propped up to look at her. “You know what, I don’t think I thought about what happened hardly at all from yesterday to now.” He smiled, soft and relaxed but a little sad. “Thank you, sweetheart. It was nice to get a break.”

She smiled as she stroked his head, then nudged him to scoot back, sat up, pulled off her shirt and lay down again, pulling him down against her. “There, that’s better,” she said.

“Mmm hmm.” He nuzzled against her and she gasped and jumped a little. “You ok?” He asked.

“Yeah. I like it when you’re clean shaven, but there sure is a lot of sensation when you have that two or three day beard.” She heard his chuckle and caught her breath again when he started deliberately scruffing his beard against the tender skin of her breasts and neck. “Troublemaker,” she said.

“Yep.” He pulled back and looked at her with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes. “Good call on the day bed, by the way.”

“I don’t know.” She slid her hands down his back and under his waistband. “We haven’t broken it in properly yet.”

His grin broadened. “Let’s take care of that.”

 

It was still only mid-afternoon by the time they got the new day bed christened. After they both dozed off, she gave him a kiss and went to find room in the yellow and white bedroom for the other clothes she had picked up.

Christian came by a few minutes later. “Hey, Amanda . . .” He stopped. “Whoa. That’s a lot of clothes.”

“I guess so.” She looked around. The single bed was towering with neatly folded stacks and there were dressers and boxes on every wall, piled high. “I was stocking up for when I got stranded. I didn’t know I was gonna pick up an mechanic.”

He grinned. “I wanted to check where I can put the weight bench.”

“Let’s go see.” There were four bedrooms left that she wasn’t using and he chose the green one. She helped him scoot the bed against the wall and pull the dresser out into the hall. “How’s that?”

He looked around, grinning. “Perfect!” She started past him into the hall but he caught her by the waist and she found herself up against a wall. “I need to say thank you,” he said, his voice low, and kissed her.

She was grinning when he pulled back. “I seem to find myself in this position a lot.”

“Do you mind?”

“I didn’t say that.” She leaned back and pulled him closer, and he settled against her. “I’ve been getting lots of kisses. I like it.” He smiled and kissed her again. “And you have a bed in here already, in case you start something while I’m watching you work out.”

“Yeah, darlin’. I don’t think you’re gonna be watching me work out. And I’m not the one who starts somethin’!”

 

After a few more kisses she eased away and Christian let her go. He got his bench set up and the equipment hauled up to the bedroom, grinning when the single bed with its flowered green comforter caught his attention and he imagined tumbling Amanda to her back, him sweaty and hot from working out and her sweaty and hot from watching him. He moved a few smaller pieces of furniture out of the room and set up a water jug and towels, then opened a window for a breeze, swung onto the bench and got started - “Shit.” He almost hurt himself with the first lift. He shook his head and took some weight off and tried again. Despite what Amanda kept saying, he was in piss-poor shape. Luckily he had not developed a gut, but he was soft all over. How could he be otherwise, when all he’d done for years is drive around and drink? He got into a rhythm, although with much less weight than he used to use.

It’ll come back, he thought, now that he had a reason to want to feel good and look good. He gave a rueful grin at Amanda’s questions about being a sex symbol. It was more important as Eliot, he thought, than his latest character Jake on _The Librarians._ Eliot was a much more physical character. Plus he had been 30, not 40.

He was breaking a sweat and he could tell he would feel this tomorrow. Don’t overdo it, he thought. He had a tendency to do that, and there was no physical therapist here to help repair any damage. Although Amanda’s massage - he had been surprised at how good that was. She was something - so many surprises. She could be so sweet, and so stubborn.

And so open, and so passionate - “Shit,” he murmured again, pushing a little faster. Whatever she felt, she showed. With every touch and look from him, she came to life, and made him feel alive. It was addictive.

He did one more and stopped. That was a good start. He wiped off with the towel, hung it to dry, and explored the little room more thoroughly. There was a closet and a small bathroom with a shower. He grinned. Again, now that he had a reason to care - he went downstairs and found some empty gallon jugs in the kitchen, went outside and filled them up at a water barrel, and took them up to the little bathroom.

Down in the pantry he looked through her soap collection - sure enough, she had grabbed some of the pine tree stuff she had liked so much at the blanket store. He grabbed some towels and headed back to what he was now thinking of as his room, got cleaned up and then dressed in their shared bedroom.

I’ll move some clothes over, too, he thought. Then I can work out whenever. He thought of one more task he wanted to get started and headed for the library.

 

Amanda found him there a few minutes later. “Hey, Christian.”

“Yeah.” She saw he was browsing her do-it-yourself construction books and had put a couple aside.

“Are you busy?”

“No. What do you need?” He put the book he was holding down and turned to her as she came up to him. She went into his arms and he pulled her close.

“Mmmm. You give the best hugs.” He just held her and she could feel his heart beating and the heat and strength of him. She took a deep breath and just rested on him, feeling his arms around her. She felt him shift and thought he was about to pull back and see what she wanted but he just pulled her closer, settling her up against him without a word. Her arms were around him and she felt his warm hands stroking up and down her back.

“Wow. This is exactly what I needed and I didn’t even know it.”

“Me too,” he murmured against her hair.

His hair was tied back and she kissed his neck. “What were you working on?”

“Your bread oven. Did you know you have three books about how to build a wood fired bread oven?”

“Oh, my God. Thank you! I had forgotten about that,” she said. “That will be fun. We’ll be able to make all kinds of stuff.”

He finally pulled back to look at her, keeping his arms around her. “What did you need?”

"I've got som e food ready if you want to come down." 

"Let me finish this, I'll be right down." 

 

 

She left Christian to his browsing to go make dinner and he found her a little later down in the cook shack with something simmering on the stove. She had just put something in the gas grill and her hair was up, so he slipped his arms around her and kissed her neck.

“Hi, beautiful.”

“Mmm.” She leaned back against him. “How’d it go? Did you figure it out?”

“Yep. Getting a plan figured out.”

She put down her oven mitt and turned around. He held her close and took a deep breath, feeling her warmth against his chest. “Smells good. What are we having?”

“Lentil soup with cherrywood pork jerky and onions and garlic. And buttermilk biscuits.”

“That sound fucking amazing,” he said. “Where did you get buttermilk?” She reached over to the table and held up a box of buttermilk powder. “I didn’t even know that made that.” She served big bowls of meaty lentil stew, and he grinned at his first bite. “Wow, baby - that has a kick to it!”

“Yeah. I took half and added some cayenne and stuff to yours,” she said. “Is it OK?”

“That’s awesome. It’s perfect. Thank you.” He took a few more bites. “Wow.” Her cooking for him, and going out of her way to jazz it up for him - it really hit him, and he wasn’t sure why. He wolfed down a biscuit, slathering on the honey she had put out. “This is really fucking good.”

She shook her head. “You are always so surprised that I can cook!”

“Naw, sweetheart.” He got out of his seat and went around to her, pulling her up into his arms. “That ain’t it. I know you can do any damn thing you put your mind to. I’m just so appreciative. It’s really good.” He grinned. “I was hungry! You get me working up an appetite.”

“All right!” She was laughing. “Fine. Go eat before it gets cold.”

He sat down and helped himself to more. “Well, I’m not going to stop complimenting your food, so you better get used to it.”

They both felt at loose ends after dinner and ended up taking the bikes out for a spin. “Good call on the bikes!” Amanda called to Christian as they pulled back up to the carriage house right at twilight. She got a bottle of wine and they went to bed early, and since they had just made love that afternoon and the wine made her a little mellow, Christian found he could kiss on her and touch her without setting her off.

Not that I don’t love that, he thought, but it was nice to just be able to keep his hands on her.


	11. Chapter 11 - Do you trust me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is it to have control? What if what you are most afraid of is losing control, and you think you cross the line? Do you believe them if they tell you that you didn't?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian Kane or his description. I also don't own rabbits or collages or water jugs.

 

Amanda was already out in the yard the next morning when Christian awoke and came out.

“Hey.” He came over to meet her where she was checking on her baby trees.

“Hey, you.” She dropped the handful of weeds she had pulled from around a tree and barely had a chance to wipe her hands on her shirt before she was caught up in a hug. She felt a warmth in her chest and smiled as she leaned against him and hugged him back. It was never just a quick peck or polite hug - he kissed her and held her like he was starving and she was dinner. She nuzzled against his neck.

He pulled back and looked at her, his smile soft. “That was fun, the last couple days.”

“Oh, I’m glad. For me too.”

“You said the garden needed tending?” he asked. “I don’t want to weed until you can show me what’s what, so I thought I’d do the beans for the three sisters garden this morning. The corn’s a few inches high.”

She was grinning and shaking her head. “Sure, Christian. That’s fine. The seed should be on top in the cooler.” He gave her a little quirk of a grin and headed off. She had planned on doing pretty much nothing all day, but she knew by now that nothing was not something he did well.

After she finished her rounds of the yard, she used the bathroom out in the shed and saw that the three-gallon water jug with the spigot was almost empty. She washed her hands as best she could and carried it from the shed up to the house to refill it. Christian looked up from the corn patch to see her balance the jug with her foot as it filled up from the water barrel.

“Oh, from the bathroom?” he asked.

“Yep.” She adjusted the container as it filled up.

“Here, I’ll get it.” He put down the trowel he was using and started toward her.

“No, that’s OK. I got it,” she said.

“That’s heavy, though, darlin’. I don’t mind.” He reached down and put his hand on the jug but she didn’t move.

“Christian, I said I have it.” She turned off the spigot on the water barrel and put the lid on the jug. “Move, please.”

He took a small step back. “I’m right here, I don’t mind helping.”

“I don’t want help. I said I got it,” she repeated. She lifted the jug but it was slippery from the water that had spilled and she had to readjust her grip.

“That’s heavy, hon. Let me get that.” He stepped forward again and put his hand on the handle.

She jerked it away. “Back off.”

“What?!” His jaw dropped in surprise and she saw his jaw set and eyes narrow. “You know you can ask for help. I’m right here.”  
“Christian, I know I can ask for help.” She grit her teeth. “Does that mean I have to? You won’t let me do anything by myself ever again? I let you get the firewood and garden timber because I didn’t want to anyway, but you don’t tell me what to do!”

“I’m not telling you what to do! I’m just trying to help!”

“I don’t want help!” she yelled. “Leave me the fuck alone!” She pushed past him, barely registering the shock on his face. Halfway to the shed the jug started to slip from her arms and she had to put it down and readjust, but she did not turn to see if he was watching.

She was still fuming when she returned to the house. Christian was nowhere in sight - he was probably in the kitchen, she thought. She couldn’t decide whether to to go find him and have this out now or just walk away.

No, she thought. Fuck him. She walked around the grounds, throwing sticks for the dogs. “He’s not going to get away with that, is he, boys?” she said. She sat down in the shade of a tree and Jack jumped in her lap and Cody curled up next to her.

“Hey, boys. You miss mommy? You wouldn’t do that, would you? If mommy says no, it’s no.” Jack put his ears back and looked up, wondering if he was being scolded. “No, you’re a good boy.” She cuddled and pet on them a few more minutes until she had calmed down, then headed into the house.

He just got away with it too often, she thought. Like every time she said ‘No, that’s OK’ and then he ended up doing what he wanted anyway. Christian wasn’t in the kitchen, or anywhere on the first floor - not that I’m looking for him, she thought.

She headed upstairs and stopped at the top of the staircase at an unfamiliar sound. Ah - from the green bedroom. He was working out on his new weight bench. The door was almost closed and she leaned on the wall next to it, listening to the clang of the barbells and his grunts, picturing him, sweaty and shirtless, his hair in damp waves, straining his muscles.

She grinned and slipped past the door to the art studio. She left the door open and could still hear him from down the hall. She noticed when the sounds stopped and a couple of minutes later he was at the door, sweaty and flushed, but with a shirt on.

She looked up. “Hey.” He didn’t reply so she shrugged and went back to sorting the small colorful squares on the table in front of her.

He still said nothing, and she glanced up to see him looking stern in the doorway. She went back to her work.

“So what was that about?” he asked finally.

“That was me not taking your shit.” She smiled sweetly.

“What?” He stepped into the room, planting his feet apart and crossing his arms. His jaw was set and his eyes narrowed and she could see he was angry.

His arms bulged in his shirt - I wonder why he wears such snug shirts, she thought - and his hair was back but escaping from his ponytail. His skin was still ruddy from his workout. His mouth was set and his blue eyes hooded and intense - he had never looked so much like Eliot.

She bit her lip and had to look away a second to keep from going over and jumping on him. “I told you no, and you didn’t listen. I told you in the first hour we met that I wasn’t putting up with that.”

“I just wanted to help,” he said in a low, measured growl.

“Fuck you,” she said cheerfully. “Is you wanting to help more important or a higher priority than me not wanting help right then?” She put down the paper she was working with and turned to look at him. “Christian, I want to let you in. I’m trying. But I swear if you pull this shit I won’t. I won’t ask you for a bucket of water if I’m on fire.”

He was still standing with his legs braced, arms crossed, but his head was down. Some strands of hair had escaped the band and were hanging around his face and she couldn’t see his expression. She picked up the tray of paper again, sorting out some blues and greens. She glanced up again and he was still standing there, head down.

Are you OK, she thought, but was determined not to ask. He was OK, and this could play out.

He finally sighed and unfolded his arms. “You stand your ground, don’t you?” he asked softly.

She thought of the next line of the song, ‘It’s more than I deserve.’ She closed her eyes and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Well, I hope you know that about me by now,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. She kept working as she heard him come up behind her. “I do. I’m glad.”

He wasn’t touching her but she could feel the heat radiating from him and smell the male scent of him. She focused on her hands, on sorting the pieces.

“You weren’t glad a minute ago," she murmured. 

“Yeah, I was. I need somebody to stand up to me when I’m being a fucking idiot.” He put his hands on her, then, wrapping them around her waist and stepping up close behind her. Her heart sped up and her mouth was dry. She barely resisted the urge to turn around in his arms, pull him close, kiss him and grind against him. She didn’t even know why, exactly. She wasn’t trying to teach him a lesson or punish him or anything. The delicious tension of the moment held her still.

He slid his hands around her but was hesitant, not pulling her into a full embrace. “What are you working on?” he asked, low against her ear.

She had to swallow again before she could answer. “A mosaic collage. I cut up magazine pictures, then use the squares to make a picture.” She pointed at the large poster board to the side, half filled with half-inch squares to form a picture of a vase of flowers. “It takes forever. The perfect project.”

“Mmmm.” She had to swallow again and her breath caught when he kissed and nibbled on the side on her neck. “Amanda, I’m sorry. You’re right. It won’t happen again.”

She gave a big sigh, releasing breath she didn’t know she was holding. Maybe that’s what I was waiting for, she thought.

“Thank you.” She grinned. “It might happen again. It’s OK. I’ll just tell you to fuck off.” She put down the paper and turned around, leaned back against the table and put her arms around his neck. The urge to jump him had subsided and she looked at him, studying his face. He looked so serious and her mind flashed to so many pictures she had seen of him with something like this expression. But he was real to her now, and those pictures faded away as she took in the man in front of her, studying her as she was him.

“I was right about the firewood, though,” he said softly.

She chuckled. “Yes, you were. That’s why I gave in on that one.” She gave a little shrug. “I didn’t really want to do it anyway.”

He smiled a little, then. “You are somethin’ else.”

“This is a lot different from how I was before. I don’t think my family would recognize me.” She sighed and settled in against him. “I like being able to say what I need to say. You can take it, and we’re fine. Before, I would have to . . .” she frowned, searching for words. “Manage everyone else’s feelings, I guess. I dunno.”

“I’m glad you trust me,” he said quietly. He leaned forward, slowly, a scant inch at a time, and finally met her lips. The kiss was more urgent than she expected, hungry and possessive. It went on and on - he had one hand on her back, the other on her head, pulling her close, his mouth moving, his tongue teasing and possessing. She gave up trying to initiate and just accepted and responded, letting her body melt into him, letting his tongue taste every part of her. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and her breathing was quick and knees were weak by the time he lifted his head.

“Wh . . . .wow.” It took a second for her to catch her breath. “I suppose we better get a bed in here, too, huh?”

 

Christian glanced around - there was nowhere comfortable in the art room. He hadn’t noticed that before.

“I know where there’s a bed,” he growled, and went in for another kiss. Again, she melted against him, accepting the onslaught, moving her mouth against his, following his lead when he left her room. He wanted to possess her, take her, like that right now.

He wasn’t afraid, this time, that he had scared her off over the damn water jug, but the way she had stood up to him, that flash of anger and cheerful ‘fuck you’ and now here she was melting in his arms again - he groaned against her and started working them toward the door. The look on her face when she said she was trying to let him in - he had slammed that door and here she was opening it again, with no grudge, no anger.

He stopped and leaned her against the doorframe, looking at her and cradling her head. She returned his gaze, smiling, eyes shining, leaned back - and suddenly she slipped out of his arms and was gone down the hall. He was stunned for a moment, but she looked back and grinned before heading for their bedroom. He took off after her, getting to the bedroom moments after her and he kept going, wrapping her in his arms and tumbling them to the bed, rolling until he had her beneath him.

She was laughing as she put her arms around his neck. “You got me,” she said, her eyes shining, her breathing quick.

He was smiling too, but realized he was gritting his teeth before kissing her again, kissing her hard while his hands traveled over her, almost frantically getting her clothes out of the way. I’ve got you, he thought. All mine.

He was lost in plundering her mouth, feeling her body, feeling her yield to him, when it finally registered that she was trying to pull her head back. She had her hands between them and pushed on his chest, trying to break the kiss. He eased up and she pulled away.

“Christian, stop,” she gasped. His heart skipped a beat and he froze. “Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked, pulling back to look in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“What?” His voice sounded like a growl to his own ears.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asked again. She stroked his hair and looked at him with such love and concern.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He could feel tension through his whole body and just the overwhelming need to be with her, inside her. His blood ran cold for an instant at the thought that he might have been too rough.

“Are you OK?” she asked. He took a deep breath and let his head sink against her shoulder with a long shudder. He felt her stroking his hair, running her hand on down his back and cradling his head again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said softly into his hair. “I’m right here.” He took another long shuddering breath. “I’m right here, I’ve got you,” he heard her soft voice and she wrapped her arms around him. He had to close his eyes against the tears welling up. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I don’t know,” he said past the lump in his throat. She never called him anything but Christian - she never called him Chris, let alone baby and sweetie. He knew she wasn’t leaving or kicking him out, but he did not know why.

“It’s OK,” she said softly. She shifted and he lifted his head. “Here -” She shimmied the rest of the way out of her clothes and tugged on his shirt. He pulled his clothes off and she wrapped herself around him as he pulled her close again and something inside him eased at the feel of her skin bare against his. She pulled back a little so she could look up into his face. He searched her eyes - there was no anger, or pain. No blame or disgust.

“How do you put up with me?” he asked softly, his voice low and rough.

“Nah, you’re fun.” She smiled and took a deep breath that he could feel along her whole body. “I love being with you.”

“Even when we fight?” he asked.

“That wasn’t really a fight. But sure. That would be fun.” Her smile faded and she looked more serious. “I’m not going anywhere over the water jug.”

“I know,” he said.

He was glad to see her smile return. “Good.” She reached up and pulled his head down for a sweet kiss. “I know it’s because you care about me. We’ll work it out.”

He had to close his eyes again against the lump in his throat. When he looked at her again, she was biting her lip and her grin was more mischievous. “I liked what we were doing,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure you were OK. Are you OK?”

He released a sigh and relaxed against her. “Yeah, baby. I’m OK.”

She looked at him and again he saw no judgement or anger, only love. And by that little grin, some mischief. She wiggled under him.

“Betcha can’t catch me,” she said, and had slipped from under his hand to the edge of the bed before he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, kissing on her neck while she squealed. He flipped her to her back and slid over and pinned her even as she tried to wiggle away again. He grinned when he realized she was wiggling under him more than trying to get away and propped up on his elbows, watching her shining eyes and enjoying the feel of her body moving under his.

“I got you,” he said softly.

She smiled and relaxed under him. “You got me. What are you going to do with me?”

He grit his teeth through his smile and his pulse sped up at the sudden thought of so many things he could do. He was startled at her change of expression - whatever the look had been on his face had her eyes wide and her breath catching and her teeth capturing her bottom lip.

“Uh-oh. I think I’m in trouble,” she said, but couldn’t hide her delighted grin or her quickened breathing.

“I been fucking tellin’ you you’re gonna get in trouble,” he growled. He kissed her, then, holding her head and exploring her. Her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer. He shifted so he could get one hand free, ran it up her side and up her arm, capturing her hand and continuing until her arm was stretched up over her head. She reached up and slipped her other hand into his as well, and he had her, holding her against the bed and with his other hand explored her bare body half trapped under his.

Her breath was coming in gasps and she was quivering under him. She pulled on her hands and when he let go, she slipped her wrists back under his grip and looked at him with a lowered head, biting her lip. He held her just a little more firmly, and when she tugged again and didn’t get away she caught her breath and arched her back against him. His heart was pounding at this game she wanted to play. It scared him and excited him.

She is insane, he thought.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Amanda -” He waited until she focused on him. “You wanna play this?”

“You caught me, fair and square.” She squirmed under him, her head going back and moaning, her arousal evident when he resisted her weak attempts to escape, and he groaned at the thought of pinning her, taking her . . .

“I dunno, baby -” shit, this woman scared him so bad. She dared him to lose control. No, she just trusted him. That is fucking worse, he thought. She stopped, then, all the wiggling and moaning, although she was still breathing hard, and looked right at him with bright eyes and a sweet smile. She slipped her hands free and cradled his head.

“It’s OK. I’m fine,” she said, a little breathless. “We’re just playing. If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Want to is not the issue, he thought. “If you want to stop, just say. I’ll stop as soon as you say.” He could hear the growl in his own voice. This is crazy, he thought.

“I know,” she said. He almost stopped and rolled off her right then. There is no ‘I know’, he thought. He didn’t know. But again she was writhing under him, her body stretched out and helpless, her hands caught in his above her head, her eyes glittering every time he caught her gaze.

He kissed her and she melted and yielded to him. He loved it when she came at him, aggressive and throwing him off balance as she devoured him, and he loved it when they met, leading and following, both initiating and receiving. And I love this, he thought, his thoughts barely coherent. She was yielding and soft, accepting whatever he gave.

She tugged on her hands and he tightened his grip, really holding her now but ready to let go, but she only moaned and pushed against him more the more firmly he held her. He growled against her mouth and moved his hand up, stretching her arms higher and leaving her more helpless under him, and when she tried to pull away now she did not budge. He felt her pulling harder, straining against him, but it made no difference - she was not moving until he let her go.

His blood was pounding in his ears, he felt powerful but as if under a spell, about to lose control and lose everything. She wanted this, he thought. He left her mouth and pulled her hands down just a bit so he could suck on her breast, teasing her nipple with his teeth and sucking hard until she squealed, but she said nothing.

He took her mouth again, her tongue giving way to his, as his hand explored her body. He squeeze her breast, feeling it compress under his hand, full and soft, the nipple hard. He ran his hand down her leg and up her inner thigh, nudging her legs apart, slipped a finger just inside - he groaned against her. She was as wet as she could possibly be, slippery and hot and her moaning was more gutteral now as he touched her. He used his knee to push her thighs apart and she opened under his hand.

He pulled back to look at her and her lips were full and swollen, her eyes glazed as he slid a finger, then two, inside her. Oh fuck - so hot, so wet, contracting around him. She moaned and moved against him as he slid them almost out and back in, a little deeper each time - she was so tight he could feel he was stretching her open. The sight and feel of her so vulnerable under him but thrusting for more of his touch was about to send him over.

He paused and waited, heart pounding, until she looked at him and he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, and she grinned and gave the slightest nod.

All right, he thought. He slid into her one more time, deep, and slipped his fingers out of her and raised his hand to her face, tickling her lip with his index finger, wet with her juices. He watched for and expected her to pull away, to turn her head and then he would stop. But she gasped and opened her mouth, using her tongue to draw his fingers in, and she groaned as he slid his fingers in past her lips, feeling her lick her juices off of him as she had the jam a few days before.

Fuck fuck fuck, he thought. But she looked at him, her gaze steady on his, as her tongue swirled around his fingers, except when her eyes closed as her head went back and she arched against him. She sucked hard on his fingers when he pulled them from her mouth and he caught his breath as he thought of her on his cock. He leaned forward and kissed her and could taste her juices on her tongue.

He released her hands and got up on his knees, put his hands on her waist and flipped her over to her stomach. She was still soft, compliant, letting him do what he wanted, although still moaning and moving as if she couldn’t help it. He got behind her and pulled her hips until she was up on all fours and reached around to let the weight of her breasts fill his hands. She moaned again and started grinding her ass back against him.

“Jesus,” he said through gritted teeth. He looked down at her bare back in front of him, her thighs spread, her ass up in the air, her hair hanging down around her face, her hands braced on the bed and her breasts hanging free. He barely had to guide his huge cock into her, as hard as he was. He heard a different groan, low and guttural, as he entered her, spreading her open, so hot and wet and tight. She fell to her elbows on the bed as he grabbed her hips and took her, sliding in and out, pounding harder.

She cried out now. “Oh my God, fuck, oh Christian -” This felt too good, he wanted to wait, but when his tempo changed she moaned, pushing back against him. “Yes, yes, oh my God . .” He tightened his grip on her hips and slammed into her, but no matter how hard he was she pushed back for more, until one final thrust and he couldn’t stop and his whole body shook, filling her up before collapsing on her back.

“Oh, yes, so good,” she was saying. He could barely comprehend it. Still buried in her, pressing her flat to the bed, holding her shoulders for the final tremors and the last gasps. He didn’t know how long it was before he came back to himself, still with his full weight on her back, his head on her shoulder, both of them covered in sweat.

How is she breathing? was his first thought, and ‘holy shit’ was his second.

He lifted off and slid next to her.

“Amanda?” He reached up and stroked her hair and shoulder and she turned to face him, scooting up next to him. He was still shaky and he felt panic rising until he caught her gaze. He searched her face but saw only the warm sated eyes, sweet smile and fading blush of a very satisfied woman. “You ok, sweetheart?”

“Oh, yeah. Wow. I loved it.” She slid her arm around his waist as she smiled up at him.

He shook his head and took a deep breath as he pulled her against him, tucking her head under his chin.

How in the fuck did that turn out well? he thought. He could have lost everything. He still felt the rush of feeling her hands under his and her pulling, helpless, against him.

“You have no sense of self-preservation at all, do you?” he asked softly, his voice still husky.

She settled against him and he shivered when she kissed his chest. “What do you mean?”

“Amanda . . .” He sighed and rested his head on hers. It isn’t safe, he thought. I’m not safe. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. She was starting to trust him and he couldn’t stand for her to shut him out, even as it scared the shit out of him.

“We’ve been together, what, a couple weeks?” she asked. “That’s the first time we’ve done that, you taking me from behind. Oh my God, that was so deep.” She ground against him and he grit his teeth and closed his eyes. “Did you like it?” she asked.

“What? Fuck yes, I fucking liked it. Are you fucking kidding me?”

She startled at the harshness of his tone. “Um, wow.” She pulled back to look at him with a slight frown.

He took a breath and tried to soften his voice. “Amanda, I loved it. It was . . . unbelievable. You just scare the shit out of me, is all.”

“What? Why?”

“Really? Fuck.” He met her gaze and no, she wasn’t messing with him. This is insane, he thought. “Amanda, you seem to think I . . . I have lost it before, and I will lose it again. I told you. I am doing my fucking best, but . .” he stopped and had to look away, then looked at her again, focusing on her. “I don’t want to hurt you when I lose myself. When I lose control.”

I thought I wasn’t going to tell her that, he thought. But he didn’t know how to keep her safe when he didn’t want her further than he could reach and she melted every barrier he had ever built.

She buried her head against his chest and he stroked her hair. “Christian, I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Ah, darlin’.” He wrapped his arms around her and noticed she felt chilled. “Here -” he grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and pulled it over them. “I don’t know either, sweetheart. I can’t turn you loose but I don’t trust myself.”

He heard a small laugh. “You better goddamn not turn me loose.” She sighed. “I’m not going to start being afraid on purpose. I’m not going to be afraid for anything. I don’t know what you want me to do different. If you don’t want to do something, tell me.” She was quiet. “Does it help that I trust you?”

That makes it worse, he thought, but managed to not say it out loud. He kissed her hair and she snuggled in and relaxed against him. Other women, when he pushed too far, had cut him loose. He tended to pick strong women, but each one at some point had had enough of his shit. Or he had pushed until they were about to run, and then he had run away first.

But Amanda - well, there’s nowhere for either of us to go, first of all. He didn’t cheat if he was with someone, but when things got hard he might look around and get distracted. No distractions here - nowhere to go but through.

“That was fun, though, wasn’t it?” He heard her voice against him.

He laughed, and took a breath and tried to soften his expression before pulling back to see her, kissing her nose. “Yeah, that was fun. That was amazing. I gotta be honest with ya -” he lowered his head, let his gaze soften, and focused on her - “I liked holding you down a whole lot more than I shoulda.”

Her breath caught, two little gasps. “Yeah, I liked that too.”

“Oh, I could tell.” He kissed her, soft and sweet, again and again, and she smiled and cuddled up against him.

What am I going to do, he thought. She was going to stand her ground and keep him in check on firewood and water jugs and probably holding a goddamn fucking door open, but not on him holding her down and forcing his way into her body.

I can’t let this happen again, he thought. He felt a fire ignite in him just from thinking about what had happened, from her saying ‘What are you going to do with me’ on. I can’t, he thought.

 

Amanda enjoyed his sweet kisses and cuddled up in his arms, still buzzing from their lovemaking. It had been so overwhelming, and so amazing. She had felt helpless, but in control. He had checked in with her so many times, and it wasn’t just at the end, it was at every touch, from when he had chased her into the room and first pinned her to the bed, that had completely filled every sense and overwhelmed her. When he held her and she couldn’t get away - she shivered, and smiled when his arms pulled her closer.

She didn’t know why that kind of lovemaking would have her feel especially close to him, but it did. She didn’t ever want to leave his arms. And he might feel the same, the way he clung to her. He finally rolled over to his back and she settled on his chest.

“It’s probably not even lunchtime yet, but that felt like a really full day,” she said.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.” He sighed and she could feel some tension in his arm that was around her. She got up on one elbow to look at him. He smiled at her, but then looked away.

She reached up and brushed back his hair, and smiled when he closed his eyes and turned his face into her hand. “That was amazing,” she said. She leaned over and kissed him. He reached up and cradled her head, his returning kisses soft and accepting, following her lead. “Mmm.” She reached up to touch his face again. “I can’t get enough of you sometimes.”

He gave a short little laugh. “Apparently.” He scooped both arms around her and pulled her against his chest and she rested there, hearing his heartbeat.

“Amanda . . .” She waited, listening to him breathe, and he finally continued. “That . . .what we did.” He was silent again.

“Yeah?” She kissed his chest.

She felt his hard sigh. “I was . . . do you . . .” Again she waited, but was starting to wonder what was going on. “I wondered what had you decide to start that.”

She got up to look at him again. “You mean you holding me down?”

She heard a sound, a scoff or hard laugh. “Yeah, when I was holding you down. And not letting you go.”

She sat up a little more. “Christian, you started that. I liked it, but I thought you wanted to play that.”

“What?”

“Well, yeah.” She was puzzled. “I told you I liked what we were doing, but I wanted to make sure you were OK. You were so . . . frantic.”

She frowned as he pulled back from her. “What do you mean, I started it?” His voice was shaky.

“When you first caught me in here. You had me pinned, and how you were kissing me - I couldn’t move.”

He turned away and she couldn’t see his face. “You asked me what was wrong.” His voice was oddly flat.

“Yeah,” she said. “I didn’t mind you holding me, but you just . . . you didn’t seem like yourself. I wanted to make sure.”

“Huh.” He turned to get out of bed and she saw his face for a moment - he looked pale. “I’m gonna go clean up.” He walked out of the room and she cuddled back under the covers.

That was odd, she thought. I’ll ask him later what that was about. She lay there thinking about his touches, getting turned on again at how overwhelming the whole experience had been. It was about being helpless, but about being protected too - there were no decisions for her make, he was in complete control. But it wasn’t feeling out of control like with the rest of the world - at a word, she could have stopped it. No word would stop the nightmare they were living in.

He was back at the bedroom door dressed and - she was startled when she saw he was holding a rifle.

“You had talked about wanting some meat,” he said. “I’m gonna go see if I can get some squirrel or rabbit for ya. I’ll be gone a while. The dogs are in the house - can you leave them locked up for a spell?”

“Sure . . .” and then he turned and left. She frowned and pulled the covers up, but she was sweaty and sticky and decided she wanted a warm shower. She padded naked to the cook shack, and put a big pot of water and a pan of canned soup on to warm. After cleaning up, dressing and eating, she sat with a book but then wandered from the art room down to the music room. Pictures from the lovemaking with Christian kept flashing through her mind, and she felt very primal. She tried the different drums, and settled on a big African drum that vibrated to her core. She closed her eyes and got lost in the rhythm.

 

Christian pulled the trigger and got his third rabbit. The houses surrounding Laurel Court weren’t 36-room castles, but they were huge homes with big yards and plenty of room for game, especially animals that had had no predators for years. He sliced the tendon and hung it from his belt. These were nice-sized rabbits. That was enough for now, but he wasn’t ready to go back so he headed down the road.

He had started it by pinning her to the bed, he thought for the hundredth time, and she couldn’t move. It felt scorched into his brain. She thought he was playing, somehow - How? Why would she assume that, when she had to tell him to stop and ask what was wrong? He still didn’t get that. He had not been playing, he had not been aware of holding her down, only of his own deep need. He had held her down, and she couldn’t move, and he had not even realized it. What could have happened - what would have happened. If she hadn’t gotten hurt, she would have hated him forever.

But I did stop, he thought. He had always been in trouble for losing control, or had been afraid of losing control. The fights he’d get in as a kid or teen, always being the new kid, always having to watch out for himself. Before the plague there were so many elements of his life that kept him from losing it - the cost was too high. He would lose a job, or lose a relationship or disappoint his folks if he didn’t keep it together and do what was expected. He always thought that without all that, he would be out of control. And then, he lived through four years of insanity, following every impulse, most of them destructive.

Two weeks, he thought. Two or three weeks I’ve been with Amanda. The only thing she ever objected to was what he thought of as his best impulses, to take care of her. She would tell him to fuck off, then just - get over it. Not her business, she said, when he smashed the glass in the kitchen. Over the goddamn fucking firewood. His trashed house hadn’t bothered her. When he held her down, out of his mind, about to force her - she thought it was a game.

I can’t tell her, he thought. She can’t know I wasn’t playing, that she had been in danger. I just have to somehow make sure it never happens again. What will I do, he thought, that will finally cost me this, and her.

He stopped and looked around. It was late afternoon, the sun would soon go down, and he had no idea where he was. Nothing looked familiar and he was surrounded by small ranch style houses. He retraced his steps, finding himself back in familiar territory before it was dark.

 

Amanda was curled up in the parlor under a blanket with a book, a lantern at her elbow, when she heard him come in. “Hi. It’s getting dark - are you OK?” She put her book down and went to meet him.

“Yeah.” He put the gun up on a shelf. “I didn’t mean to worry ya - I got a little lost.”

“That’s OK. How did you do?” He held up the rabbits. “Oh, that’s great!”

He paused in the doorway, not looking at her. “I don’t think I ate today. I gotta go get something to eat and get these cleaned up.” He turned toward the hall.

“Um -” he stopped and turned back at her voice. “Can I come watch? I’d like to learn how to do that.”

“Sure.”

“Oh - here. I almost forgot.” She picked up a plate from the desk as she went by. “I made some cookies.”

“Oh -” He stopped and came back to her. “Well, thank you. That’s nice.” He picked up a cookie and took a bite. “Mm - peanut butter!” He put down the rabbits and the cookie and reached for her and she was wrapped up in his arms, and he just held her. She hugged him and rested against him as he lowered his head to her shoulder.

“Mmm - that’s nice,” she said against his chest. He finally moved, shifting her back a little. “Christian, are you OK?”

“Yeah.” He pulled back and looked at her. His face was soft, but closed off. “Yeah, I’m OK.” He started to turn away, then stopped, picked up her hand and looked at her wrist in the lantern light, and did the same with her other hand.

“What -” she started to say, then realized what he was looking for. She rubbed her wrists where he had held her down and looked for herself, but there were no marks of any kind. “Christian, I’m fine.” Without looking at her he stepped back and grabbed the rabbits, and she grinned when he took a step away but then came back for more cookies.  

He cut through the atrium to the kitchen, grabbed a can of beef stew from a shelf, opened the pop-top, grabbed a spoon and started eating right from the can. “Um -” Amanda took a step closer. “Baby, can I heat that up for you?”

He hesitated, then handed her the can. “Sure. Thanks.” When she came back from the cook shack a few minutes later with warm stew he already had the rabbits half clean on paper spread out on the counter. “I’m just gonna get this done right now. I’ll walk ya through it another time.”

“That’s fine.”

He stopped and rinsed his hands. “I will take that, though. I’m starving.” He wolfed the stew and a few more cookies, finished the rabbits, and gathered the offal and skin in the paper. “Garbage or compost?” he asked.

“Garbage. We’ll get critters in the compost. What are you going to do with the rabbits?”

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow. They’ll be all right.” He cleaned up and wrapped them in plastic, leaving them on the counter. “Darlin’, I’m exhausted. I’m going on to bed.”

“OK.” She took a step closer. “Do you want company?”

He didn’t answer at first, just kept wiping the counter and not meeting her eye.

“Sure,” he said finally.

“Hey.” She stepped up to him, took the rag, and turned him to face her, putting her arms around him. “That really shook you up this morning, huh?”

He sighed and leaned back against the counter, pulling her against him. He nuzzled her hair and his hands slid up her back. “Yeah, it did.”

“It’s OK, baby.”

“I wish you would quit fucking telling me it’s OK. It’s not.” Despite his words, his voice was quiet and he held her tight against him.

“I think it is. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

His voice was harsher but he held her just as tightly. “I’m not. You don’t understand -” he stopped and her heart ached for the pain she heard in his voice. “You don’t understand what this takes, and how close it was.”

“Look.” She pulled back a little to look at him. His head was down, but he finally looked up to meet her gaze. “You’re right, I don’t know what is going on for you, or what you feel. But I do know what happened out here. No matter who started what, you stopped the instant I asked. I did not have to ask twice, did I?” She waited for his acknowledgement. “And you stopped the action and checked in with me like four times. You gave me a safe word, for God’s sake.” He shook his head. “I know you don’t trust yourself,” she continued. “Whatever. Do you trust me?”

He looked at her for a moment. “What?”

“Specifically, do you trust that I am not going to do anything I don’t feel like doing?”

He grinned, finally. “Yes, ma’am. That I do believe.”

“And do you have any doubt that I will not hesitate to let you know exactly how I feel?”

She finally felt him soften a bit, the tension in his body starting to ease. “No, I do not doubt that. I will surely hear exactly how you feel about whatever is going on.”

“All right.” She grinned at how he had worded that. “So you gotta do whatever you do with your demons. I want to be here for you, but I know that’s your battle. I know you think I’m reckless or careless sometimes -” she grinned and shook her head at his protest. “But I really am taking care of myself. You don’t have to protect me from myself.” She frowned. “This is coming out stupid. I don’t know how to explain . . .”

“Naw, darlin’.” She saw a real smile, and his eyes gazing into her soul. “I got it. Thank you.”

She released a big sigh and cuddled up to him. “Good.” She rested on his chest. “You know, you get to tell me no, too. If you don’t want to do something, just tell me.” His arms tightened a little around her again and she looked up, but he didn’t say anything. “Are you headed to bed, and do you want company?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Yeah, I do.”

 


	12. Chapter 12 - How Sweet You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christian doesn't give up if there is something he wants. And you are really, really glad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian Kane, or his long hair, or hot tubs or rabbits or laundry.

Chapter 12

Day 14

Amanda woke the next morning with his leg over her, his arm around her and his face pressed against the back of her neck. They had not made love again last night, but she smiled when she thought about how he couldn’t keep his hands off of her, scooting over and wrapping himself around her again every time she shifted. She slid around to her back and he woke up and nuzzled against her. 

“Hey, you.” She kissed his arm that was laying across her chest. “I like this whole Velcro thing you have going on.” 

“What?” He slid his leg over her again. 

“You chased me all over the bed last night.” 

“What?” His eyes opened and he lifted his head. “What did . .” 

“I just meant you were really cuddly.” She pulled his arm around her waist and scooted her hip against him. “I like it.” 

“Oh.” He settled back down, kissing her shoulder. 

“Hey!” He startled when she poked him. “What are we going to do with the rabbits?” 

“Cook ‘em.” 

“I know, but how? I’m so excited for some real meat. What should we do?” 

He groaned and tried to cuddle up again, but she kept poking until he was up and going. Her enthusiasm was contagious and after much discussion and consultation of cookbooks, they decided to make a stew with half of the meat and marinate and grill the rest. 

“The dutch oven!” Amanda yelled. “We haven’t even used it yet this year. We’ll get a fire going and slow cook it. This will be amazing!” 

Christian found that she was excited about every suggestion he made. “I’ve never cooked for such an enthusiastic audience in my life,” he said as he mixed up red wine, thyme, olive oil, garlic and lemon for the marinade. 

“Oh! Look, this one has honey in the marinade.” Amanda pointed at the cookbook. “Should we try that?” 

“Sure.” The stew was even more fun. “We could just do potatoes and onions and garlic and it would be fine, but we’re going to come up with something a little special.” 

She grinned as she watched him go into his cooking zone, describing all the rabbits he had cooked and variations he was thinking of. He added bay leaf, red currant jelly, some hearty burgundy and balsamic vinegar, bemoaned the lack of bacon, and browned the pieces of rabbit in the dutch oven on the fire before adding everything else and setting the stew to simmer. 

Once the fire was built and the rabbit was marinating and stewing, she wiped her hands and threw herself into his arms. He grinned as he braced himself and caught her. “All right. What kind of bread do we want?” she asked. 

“Oh fuck - really?” 

“Yep,” she said. “What do you think, a crusty Italian or a like a cornbread?” 

They decided a creamy cornbread would be good with the rabbit. The whole morning was spent messing with the food. Christian monitored the fire and grilled the tender rabbit while Amanda opened cans of black beans and corn and added onions and seasoning to make a cold vegetable salad and explored the yard for a wild green salad. 

They enjoyed the grilled rabbit, salads and bread for lunch. “That was amazing!” Amanda said. “I was so sick of canned chicken.” 

“That was great.” He pushed back from the table. “Come here.” She smiled and went and climbed on his lap. “Good job, baby,” he said and pulled her down for a kiss. 

“Mmm. We make a good team, don’t we?” 

“Yep.” 

She leaned down and kissed him again. “Does the stew need tending?” 

“Nope, it’s good for a hour or so,” he said. 

“Good. Will you come lay down with me?” 

“Well, sure!” He grinned as he followed her to the daybed in the parlor and stretched out next to her. 

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” She reached up and brushed back some strands that had escaped from his hair tie.

“That was amazing. That was so much fun.” He leaned forward for a kiss and she was glad to see the softness around his eyes. “I can’t wait to try that stew. We’re gonna be eating good now.” 

“The mighty hunter,” she said. He grinned. “Oh - you know what!” she exclaimed. “I bet there are still ducks at the lakes. Have you ever been duck hunting? We could train Jack to go get them.” 

“The first Corgi-chihuahua retriever,” he teased. 

“He’s a good boy, he could do it.” When she wiggled against him in her excitement his grin grew broader and he wrapped an arm around her. “Oh man, roast duck. I think I’ve had it twice in my life.” 

“You got it,” he said. 

She stopped and looked at him, her eyes bright and smile softer. “Just like that, huh? I just say the word, and you make it happen.” 

“Pretty much.” He looked around for a pillow - which, of course, was right there, since Amanda was the one who had made up the bed - tucked it under his head, and lay facing her, his gaze on her. She still felt a brief impulse to look away when he looked at her so intently, but she just met his gaze, letting him in. 

“You take such good care of me,” she said. He gave her a smile - brief, sure, not weary but . . . a picture flashed to her mind from the first episode of  _ Leverage _ . This same smile, and Eliot telling Hardison, ‘That’s what I do.’ She felt her heart swell as she put her hand on his face and just took him in, him meeting her gaze now. All that time, she thought, with no one to take care of. For either of us.

“Are you OK?” she asked softly.

He sighed and closed his eyes a moment, but was still smiling when he looked at her again. “We’re gonna talk about it, huh?” 

“Yes. Unless you don’t want to.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter to her in the least, but she kept her gaze and smile soft on him.

“Yeah. I’m OK. It helped a lot when you told me how it was for you.” He pulled back and looked at her with a puzzled little crease in his forehead. “I gave you a safe word?” 

“Yeah. You said something like ‘If you want me to stop just say.’”

“Huh.” He shook his head a little. “OK. But that helped. Except for . . .” he stopped. “It wasn’t as out of control as it felt like it was to me.” He shook his head again, but he was grinning. “You are crazy, by the way.” 

“Well, sure,” she said. “I’m sure we both are. You’d have to be crazy not to be at this point.” 

“And we aren’t playing that again.” His voice dipped to a growl and his face was stern.

“Sure. Whatever you want.” She turned her head and bit her lip, grinning.

“What?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Well, of course,” she said, not even trying to hide her naughty grin, “my first impulse as soon as you say that is to try to make you chase me and catch me every time you turn around. You’d have me pinned up against a wall, or on a bed, kissing me, and I’d be struggling but couldn’t get away . . .” She hunched her shoulders but could not stop grinning at the tilt of his head and set of his jaw, and the tension along his body. “I’ll behave, though. I promise.” She paused. “I’ll try.” 

He shifted her to her back and she relaxed against the bed, her arms around his neck. “You are trouble,” he said gruffly, looking down at her with soft eyes and brushing her hair back. “What am I going to do with you?”

She tried to make her eyes wide and her expression innocent. “I don’t know. What are you going to do with me?” He growled and was finally kissing her. She opened to him, letting him lead, and reached up and pulled out the hair tie so his hair tumbled around them. She cradled his face and ran her fingers into his hair, trying to pay attention to everywhere they touched, his taste and smell, the softness of his lips and firmness of his tongue, and the heat of his whole body against her, his hands firm on her back and stroking her breast through the thin dress, and the hardness of his cock pushing against her thigh where her dress had hiked up. 

He was laughing when he raised his head. “Goddammit, woman. Do you even know how to behave?” 

She slid her hand down his back and down under his waistband, down over his bare ass under his pants. Yay, no jeans! She thought. “Nope, not at all. I think I’m ruined forever.” 

His grin was wide when he pulled back to look at her. “Hey. Let’s go check the rabbit.” 

“What??” He just smiled and slid out of her grasp and headed for the doorway. “Hey!” she called from the daybed, but he grinned and waved back at her and headed down the hall.   

 

Christian was still grinning as he headed out to the fire pit, pulling a hair tie from his pocket and pulling it back into a ponytail as he went. You never mess with fire with your hair down, and it got in the way of machinery and chopping wood, and it was hot if you were working in the garden. Since she was getting into his hair every chance she got, he had gotten into the habit of carrying hair bands so he could put it back up. He might fuss about it sometimes, but he wasn’t going to tell her no. 

He could smell the rabbit stew as he stepped out on the patio. When she told him last night ‘You’re allowed to tell me no,’ that was one of the first things he thought of, that he never would have tolerated a woman messing with his hair as much as she did, before. Those first days together, he had been so sure he was going to run her off somehow, it was the least of his worries. And now - he still didn’t really like it, but she enjoyed it so much more than it irritated him that he certainly wasn’t going to make her stop now. 

He had gotten the oven mitts and had the dutch oven on the picnic table by the time she caught up to him. He looked at her sideways and grinned as he lifted the lid. She was flushed and smiling back at him, her hair a little wild and her eyes bright. 

She’s not a bit mad at me walking off like that, he thought. 

“Wanna try it?” He held up a spoon of broth. 

“Oh, yeah! How is it?” She blew on it and tried it, closing her eyes to savor it. “Mmm. Oh my God. I’ll go get bowls.” She ran off and came back with dishes and utensils and set the picnic table. 

“We just ate, darlin’.” He cut off a piece of meat and tried it. 

“I don’t let appetite interfere with my meals.” She ate the meat he held out to her. “Oh my God, that is so good.” 

“I think I want that rabbit a little more tender. We’re gonna let that simmer a bit.” He put in a little more broth and wine and set it back on the fire. 

“Whatever you think. This is exciting.” She waited until he stepped back from the fire, then slipped up behind him and put her arms around his waist. He put his hands over hers and stood still, feeling her warmth against his back, her arms firm around him. He shifted a bit and she loosened her arms and he turned around, cradling her head where she nuzzled against his chest. 

She sighed. “This is nice. What do you want to do now?” She pulled back and looked up at him with that troublemaker grin. “We could finish what we started in there.” 

“I was thinking hot tub,” he said, and grinned to see her face light up. “We’ll take a break when the stew’s ready.” 

“That would be fun! I never used to do it very often, because it takes so much firewood.” She hugged him tight. “I’ll go get it started.” 

He watched as she went around the corner, pulled off the tarp, and started loading the coil with wood. 

We’ll finish what we started all right, he thought. He got turned on thinking about having her naked in the hot tub. His thoughts turned to what had happened the day before but it didn’t panic him like it had. 

I got this, he thought. She did have limits and would help keep him in check, even if they weren’t what he expected. And as she had said, he surely would know what was on her mind. None of this ‘he did something wrong but now he had to guess what he did’ shit. He checked and stirred the stew one more time, then went and gathered his laundry and brought it down. 

“Where are the tubs for this?” he asked as he came outside.

“Oh, good idea.” She showed him where they were in the carriage house, and he got them set up and went back for her laundry - a little easier since she tossed it into a laundry basket instead of all over the room. She did a double take when he came out carrying her basket. 

“Oh - thank you!” She dropped one more log in the coil and came over and gave him a hug, pulling him close for a sweet, thorough kiss. “That was so sweet.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” It was hard not to take care of her when she was so appreciative about it, but he had to watch himself. He gave a crooked grin. She’ll let me know, he thought. 

The fire was going, laundry started, stew checked, they had soaped up and rinsed off, everything was set up to her satisfaction and he was finally naked in the hot tub with Amanda.

“This feels decadent, firing up the hot tub twice in a week,” she said. She put her head back and stretched her arms out as she floated on her back, grinning when she saw his eyes her. 

“Mmm. Come here.” He reached out and caught her hand, pulling her over to where he sat against the side. He guided her around until she was sitting on his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, his hands on her waist, her arms around his neck, her full breasts bobbing in front of his face. 

He pulled her down for a kiss, first, then wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her close and kissed down her neck and chest until his mouth captured her nipple, already hard and pebbled under his tongue. He put both arms around her and pulled her up against him, sucking on her, kissing all over, going from one breast to the other, full and soft in front of him. 

He had an impulse to stop, look up, make sure, but he kept his eyes closed and his face buried against her, feeling the soft skin against his face and her nipple growing more erect under his tongue. He understood now that he could trust her to take care of herself. Even now, her hands in his hair, pulling him against her, her moans, her hips starting to grind against him - she was telling him what she wanted, and it was more, harder, faster. 

He kept one arm around her, holding her tight against him, and with the other scooped up her breast, feeling the weight and softness and fullness as he suckled on her as if starving. The water splashed against them as she started moving on him. He never wanted to stop this, her pushing her gorgeous tits in his face while he played and sucked and licked, her getting more aroused with every movement, but he was hard as granite and she was grinding against him and whimpering.

He grabbed her waist with both hands while still sucking on her, lifted her up - she was so light in the water - and then he did look up at her face as he positioned her over him and she lowered herself, filling herself up on him, so wet even in the hot tub. 

“Ah, there ya go, darlin’.”

“I love it when you say that.” Her voice was breathless, her eyes were closed, head back, fingers digging into his shoulders, moving on him, her gasps in time with him sliding in and out of her body, hot and tight. He loved watching her like this, in her own world that he created for her. His mind flashed to a picture of her in his arms, still flushed from lovemaking, looking at him with such wonder, telling him he became the whole universe when they made love. 

He could feel the heat of her even in the hot water of the little pool, and the tightness - she was moving faster, she was close, and he grit his teeth and tensed his thighs, trying to wait - and there, she was crying out, trembling, driving against him, and the contractions around his cock as if a hand was squeezing him, and he dug his hands into her hips and was driving against her, filling her up, barely aware of the water splashing against them and out of the pool as he clung to her and was lost.  

 

Between the lovemaking and the wonderful rabbit stew that they had eventually taken a break for, Amanda was feeling sated and full. They were back in the tub and she curled up on his lap, feeling the warm water lap against her skin, anchored with his arms around her, and kissed on his neck. “Wow,” she murmured against his skin. “I loved that, before.” 

“Mmm.” He stroked her arm and scooped up water and letting it trickle over her shoulder, watching it roll down her skin. “Me too. I’ve been thinking about that for a while.” 

She was cradled in his arms and he tilted his head as she kissed around the back of his neck, behind ear and down to his jaw, stopping to tease his earlobe. 

“I’m glad you just let me kiss on you,” she said softly against him. 

“Why would I not?” He shifted to pull her closer and her breasts were pressed against him. He was looking at her, his eyes searching her face like they had the very first night. She took a breath and just met his gaze, so warm. 

“I’ve been thinking about getting you back in the hot tub for this since the first time we were in here. I’m glad you didn’t mind,” he said. 

“Are you kidding? Why would I mind? I love it.” He kissed her and she met him, sweet and searching. They cuddled a little longer, then she sighed and scooted back. “It’s starting to cool off - there’s one more thing I wanted to do.” She climbed out and grabbed a bottle from the little table. “Christian - look, I found this heavy-duty conditioner. It’s good stuff. If you get your hair wet, I’ll work it in. It’ll make it a lot easier to brush out.” 

He automatically started to protest, then stopped and shrugged. “Sure.” He ducked his head under the water and sat at the edge while she massaged it through his hair and scooped up pitchers of water to rinse, letting the rinse water hit the ground. 

He is so good-natured about letting me mess with his hair, she thought. 

By the time they got dressed, got the laundry hung and got everything put away it was early evening. They ate more stew and finished the corn salad and bread and sat cuddled up on the patio loveseat in the back, looking over the gardens. “That was some good eatin’ today,” he said.

“That was great. Thank you. Is there any left?” 

“A few pieces of the grilled. I’ll get some more meat for ya soon.” 

“Thank you!” She squeezed his arm. “That’s so exciting. A whole new world has opened up.” He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her up close to to nestle against his side. 

“Mmmm,” she said, reaching up to lay her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Her breath quickened and there was a trembling in her stomach. 

“Oh,” she said. “I was trying to figure out I was reacting so much to sitting with you like this.” She turned a little and looked up at him. “This is how we sat that first night. The first human touch for me in over three years.” She shivered and he drew her closer. “It was wonderful, and overwhelming. I will never forget that.” 

“Ah, darlin’,” he murmured. He shifted again and was looking into her soul. “Let’s go on to bed.” She smiled and nodded, sinking into his eyes. “You go on up. I’ll be right there.” 

“I love it when you say that,” she murmured.     
She had just settled into bed, nude, when he came in with an armful of big scented candles. “I saw that some of these had burnt out.” He set them out, replacing the empty jars, and lit them all. 

“Mmm. I love candles.” 

“I know.” He stripped off his clothes and lay down next to her, brushing her hair back. “I love seeing you in candlelight.” She smiled and wet her lips and he leaned in to kiss her, slow and sweet. She closed her eyes and raised her head, her mouth open and letting him taste and explore. He pulled back and looked into her eyes and she reached up and touched his face. She smiled to find him clean-shaven - that was unusual right before bed. 

“I’ve been thinking about you.” His voice was low and husky and he looked so serious. 

“Thinking about me? I’m right here.” 

“Thinking about the other day, after the hot tub the first time.” 

It took her a second - “Oh.” Her eyes slid away from him. He leaned forward and kissed her neck, tickling the sensitive spot right at the pulse point, and she sighed and her head went back and her arm came up, cradling his head against her. 

“I’ve been thinking about how sweet you are,” he murmured against her skin, “and how much I want to taste you.” 

She took a big breath and let it out. She should have known he wouldn’t let that go. The thought of his mouth on her in the most private part scared her and excited her. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of his kisses and touches and smiled to herself. Whatever she decided to let him do, this was going to be a full-out seduction and she might as well enjoy it. 

She rolled to face him and he kissed her again, his hand teasing up and down her body, doing everything he knew she liked. He ran his hand down to her bottom and pulled her snug against him. 

“Mmmm.” She reached up and ran her hands through his hair, brushing it back, smiling as she looked into his intense blue eyes. He seemed himself again, after how upset he was and how hard on himself over what had happened the day before. 

“If I’m really gentle, and stop as soon as you say, can we try again?” His voice was so husky and soft that she felt the vibration inside her. She lowered her face to his chest, not meeting his gaze, and he just wrapped his arms around her, cradling her and stroking her hair. 

We are asking a lot of each other, she thought. Can I trust him as much as I asked him to trust me? She knew if she said no he would respect that, and if she asked him not to ask again she would hear no more about it. 

For a while, at least. She could guess that he didn’t give up easily if there was something he wanted. I should just say yes, she thought. It will probably be amazing. It does seem like something I would like. But she felt so vulnerable just thinking about it, and embarrassed. It seemed strange that someone would actually like doing it. 

He was kissing her again, down her throat and to her breasts, gentle and soft, just a little firmer until she gasped, and then soft again. He was so warm against her and he knew her so well. She closed her eyes and let the center of the universe be wherever his hands and mouth were. 

“Maybe,” she whispered against his skin. 

He chuckled. “‘Maybe?’ I’ll take it.” He propped up on one elbow and looked down at her, with that half-smile and his eyes soft. “Before we met, I used to try to imagine what I would have been doing before everyone disappeared. There were projects I was in the middle of, deals coming up, there was the show, there was music I wanted to write.  _ Tinker _ was finally getting ready to come out, and we had just filmed  _ Junkie. _ I drove myself crazy. Now -” He smiled at her and stroked her cheek. “I sometimes think what I would be doing if we hadn’t met. Drinking myself to death or driving my truck into a wall, probably. If this is the world we got, darlin’, we’ll make the best of it.” 

“Um hmm.” 

He sat up a little and shifted so he was over her, his weight supported on his elbows and legs but every inch of him was against her. 

She could feel a grin like Cheshire cat’s on her face and she wiggled under him. “Mmm. Do you know why I love this so much?” 

“Why?” 

“Because you fill up every sense. Everything I see, and feel, and taste -” she lifted up to kiss him, and just closed her eyes and reveled in his kisses - “and touch, is you. I feel . . . .contained, and safe.”

“Wow.” He kissed her, sucked on her lip, and kissed down to her neck. “And I love how ready you are for me all the time.” He moved over a little, still against her but with his hand free to brush along her face. “You just accept me, everything about me.” He kissed her again, and again, drawing a response from her. 

“So . . .” he said softly against her neck, “Is it still maybe?” 

She laughed and pulled back to look at him. “It’s yes,” and smiled to see his face light up. “But you have to not take it personally if I don’t like it.” 

“I promise.” She enjoyed his kisses and touches, running her hands in his hair and gasping as he worked his way down her body. He ran his hand over her breast, down her side and tickled up her thigh, letting his fingertips trace up between her legs. She felt him hesitate and she opened her eyes to see his face. He gently stroked her again and and looked at her with a smile and a raised eyebrow. She grinned, caught her lip in her teeth and spread her legs a little more. 

He was feeling that behind the downy tuft of hair her labia were smooth and shaven. “Wow - I like that. When did you do that?” 

“Yesterday while you were out hunting. I like how it feels so I, um, do that sometimes.” 

“Mmm. I do too. How did I miss this in the hot tub?” He gently stroked between her legs as he kissed down her body, as softly as if petting a newborn kitten. The bare skin was so sensitive and his hand was so warm and soft. He pushed the covers down out of the way and stopped to suckle on her nipple while he touched her, teasing but just as gentle, and her head went back and her eyes closed as her universe centered on those two points, his mouth on her breast and his hand stroking between her legs. She twined one hand in his hair as he worked his way down. He kissed on her inner thigh as he continued to stroke the tender skin, not poking or pushing but barely teasing just inside the lips. 

Her breath was catching and she could hardly tell what he was doing except that it was wonderful and overwhelming. She heard his rough voice, “God, you are so beautiful,” and could feel his warm breath on her most private area. She arched her back and moaned as she felt his hand switch to one finger, not grabbing or invading but teasing the wet folds of her. She groaned and thrust her hips, inviting him deeper, shuddering at the sensations. She could hardly process the softness and heat and firmness and give of his touch as it slipped past the edge of her labia and teased inside. 

Then his hands moved against her waist and she realized he was holding her hips and at some point his mouth had taken over and it was his tongue that was stroking and teasing. His hands were warm against her thighs and nudged her legs a little further apart, and she gasped and grabbed his hair when his mouth closed on her before his tongue was again gently exploring, going deeper so gradually despite her thrusts against him that she thought she would go insane. 

“Oh my God,” she moaned and the sensations eased just a bit as he started to to pull back. “No, no.” She used one leg to pull him closer, hardly knowing what she was doing, and moaned as the warmth and pressure increased. She could feel now how he lapped at her, then sucking, and then felt just the barest flicker against her clitoris. She moaned and her whole body shook. 

“Don’t stop,” she cried and he was back, just enough pressure to make her crazy, barely touching, circling around that most sensitive spot with the tip of his tongue. 

“Please, please . .” She grabbed his hair and pushed against him and finally it felt like his mouth was on her and he sucked on her clitoris and she exploded with a keening cry, her whole body rigid and then shaking and heat was flooding her. 

“Stop stop stop,” she gasped and he was moving up her body and cradling her, holding her tight as her body convulsed against him and she sobbed against his chest. 

She felt a blanket being pulled over her and clung to Christian as though to a raft in a storm. With every small movement against him aftershocks tremored through her body. Gradually they faded and she became aware of his heartbeat against her and his arm holding her close and his hand stroking her hair. 

Finally she could raise her head and open her eyes and look at him. She still felt hot as though flushed and could feel the sweat cooling on her skin. “Wow.” 

He grinned. “Yeah.” 

She swallowed. “My throat is sore. Was I screaming?” 

“Yeah.” His eyes were shining. “I’m glad you let me try again.” 

“Holy shit, so am I.” One more aftershock shuddered through her body and she took a deep breath as she relaxed against him. Her heart finally calmed and she opened her eyes to warm blue eyes looking into hers. 

She smiled. “Wow. It turns out I do like that.” 

He chuckled. “I kinda thought you might. For the record, you like that the same way you like kisses.” 

She pulled back to look at him. “You’re pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” 

He chuckled and lowered his head. When he looked up at her again, his grin was even more satisfied. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Me too.” She snuggled in. “Can I help you with something?” 

“Oh, no. This was your turn. I’m fine.” She smiled as she kissed his chest and neck and felt his arms around her as she drifted to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13 - Singing Lesson with Christian Kane??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda learns a lot about Christian - he shares about the Viper Room days, relationships, and how he started singing. And did you ever want to get your hands in that hair?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian Kane, or his music, or how he looks when he pulls his T-shirt off.

 

He was gone when she woke the next day. She lay in bed for a while, thinking about the night before and the overwhelming power of his seduction.‘I’ll be gentle, and stop when you say’ was as compelling as when he had her pinned to the bed the day before. She found herself moving against the bed, thinking about how that felt with his tongue exploring her. It was not at all what she had expected or experienced before.

When she finally dressed and wandered down to the kitchen she grabbed one of the two pieces of grilled rabbit on the counter and ate it cold, savoring every bite. She went out and found Christian finishing up the beans in the three sisters garden. Just seeing him in his t-shirt and shorts kneeling in the garden, his hair tied back, brought back the last few days, the passion and fear and the new trust between them.

“Hey, you,” she called. He grinned as he stood up to greet her and she wrapped herself around him and held on tight. “That was amazing last night. Thank you.”

“Amanda, the pleasure was surely mine.” He looked at her, his eyes sparkling, and kissed her. “What are you up to today?”

“You’ve got this done, so I have no idea. I guess weeding that.” She gestured at the rest of the garden. “I don’t really feel like it, though.”

“Well, show me and I’ll do it.”

“No, I’m not going to leave the whole thing to you. I’ll get to it.”

“All right. If you decide what you’re doing, let me know.” He turned back to finish the beans. She hesitated, and then wandered back to the house. She felt at loose ends. When she looked again Christian was in the driveway by the carriage house, but when she walked over he seemed busy and not very talkative.

She finally got some yeast rolls started in the kitchen, cleaned up, and ended up working in the garden. Christian came over to join her, and after a few instructions was busy at weeding. She felt especially close after the day before and tried to tease and cuddle, but found that he kept looking away and barely responding.  
She felt a tightness building in her chest, and when he again barely responded to a comment and looked away, she stood and dropped her trowel. “Christian, what’s wrong? You’ve been distracted all morning.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Is it about last night? I loved that. I’m glad you asked again.”

“I know. I did too. You know that.” He smiled at her, but his gaze slid away again.

She frowned and stepped back. “This is bullshit. You do what you want, but I don’t know the point of us not talking about stuff.” She found she was blinking back tears as she turned and walked away toward her path. She was feeling so close to him and it hurt to be pushed away. He came up behind her and caught her hand and pulled her around to face him.

“I’m sorry, darlin’.” He sighed. “I’ve been trying not to ask about something. I know it’s none of my goddamn business, but I don’t know why I can’t let it go.” He closed his eyes a moment. “So I’ll tell you, OK? But if this is going to . . .” She watched as he searched for words. “Be hard for you to talk about, don’t.”

“Um, OK.” She couldn’t imagine what he was trying to say.

“Here -” he looked around and led her to a seat in the gazebo. “Goddamit. Look, when I ask about Ryan, you get . . . you go away. You go blank. I’ve been trying not to bring him up. But I can’t figure this out, and my mind won’t let it go.”

“Oh.” She felt a knot in the pit of her stomach.

“You are a passionate woman. You just . . .wow.” She couldn’t help but grin when he shook his head. “You were married, what, 17 years?” She nodded. “What you said about the kisses, and last night, and the goddamn shelf at Target - What the hell was going on? Did he . . . not know?”

She closed her eyes and lowered her head. She felt the edges of the tightness in her heart and the fear and could tell it would take over if she let it. She heard Christian’s voice as if from far away.

“I’m sorry, Amanda. Never mind . . .”

“No, it’s OK.” She would not let it take over. Maybe now she could face some of these memories. She took a deep breath and sat up. “He knew, all right. He loved it.” She stopped to swallow past the lump in her throat. “When we were first married I was a wildcat. On him five times a week, and taking care of myself every day besides.”

She shook her head. “I was sex crazy, but he was only the second guy I’d ever dated, and he was a good Catholic boy who decided we wouldn’t have sex before our wedding night.” She heard a scoffing sound and looked up.

He quickly pulled his expression back to something more neutral. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Go ahead.”

She grinned. “I know. Every date was me trying to tempt him to go farther. You know on the daybed yesterday?” She bit her lip and he grinned. “I was a very bad Catholic girl. After we were married it was a joke between us, if I was in the mood and he wasn’t, well, too bad for him.” She smiled at Christian. “He wasn’t complaining. He was a very happy guy.”

“I guess.” His arm was around her.

“So, the thing is, I always initiated. He never had to, since I was dragging him off to bed every day. Then we went through the infertility stuff, and the adoption. When we brought Aaron home, my libido just died. We didn’t expect that, and we weren’t prepared for it. I didn’t get pregnant and give birth, so what the hell? I lost all interest in sex. Within six months we were in counseling for lack of a sex life.”

She was silent a moment. “We kept working on it, but we just never found our way back. I guess we might have, when the kids were older. It wasn’t him, I think it was the bizarre adoption hormones or whatever, but it got to where he was afraid to initiate because he didn’t know how I would react.

“And our kids were really challenging. Our sex life took a back burner. He had one girlfriend before me, and just never learned much, um, technique, I guess. I guess when some couples are figuring it out about each other, he was just on the receiving end of the tornado. And after that - he was a pretty pragmatic man. He wasn’t really great on picking up cues.” She grinned. “Poor guy. He went from no matter what he did it was right, to no matter what he did it wasn’t quite right.”

“Huh. That . . . was not the story I was expecting.”

“And now my libido’s back full force, I guess. Plus taking care of myself before, and now a thousand times more when I’m with you, it’s just a few minutes of not being in this world.”

“Thank you. For telling me.” He was stroking her hair and she felt him pause. She looked up to see his grin. “So, you were a bad Catholic girl, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. Hyper sex drive and very naive. I’m lucky I didn’t get in with the wrong crowd, or a different kind of guy. I would have been in trouble.”

“Good thing you didn’t meet me, then,” he said.

“Did you have a thing for oversexed innocent Catholic girls?”

“Oh God. I would have.”

She grinned and turned to rest her head on his chest. “I love hearing your heartbeat.”

He put both arms around her, cradling her. “Mmm.”

“So . . . I get to ask you something about your sex life now, right?”

He hesitated. “No, not really.”

“Yes, really.” She grinned and traced her hand up along his neck. “So here’s what I want to know. Some of those thirty or forty women, were they ever girls you met at your shows and took home?”

He put his head back on the glider and sighed. “Yes. Not so much at the end, but in the early days, at the Viper Room.” He chuckled. “Plus I was 20 then, not 40.”

“So how did that work? How did you meet someone at a show, and then go home with them?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, just describe how that went.”

“Um, I dunno. We usually were drinking, so I was feeling pretty good. I guess while I was playing sometimes someone would catch my eye, and then after the set we hung around for a while and I’d look for her. A lot of times the way someone looked at me caught my attention. I could tell I wouldn’t get slapped if I went up to talk to her.”

Amanda sat up so she could see him. “Then what?”

“Um . . .” He scratched his neck and looked away. “Why are you asking me this again?”

“Because I’ve never done that, picked anyone up at a bar or had casual sex like that. I’m curious.” She grinned. “And I’m curious if I was on the right track with all those fantasies I had.”

He turned to look at her. “That first night in Nashville . . .”

“That was way out of character.” She chuckled. “The apocalypse changes a person! Don’t change the subject. What next?”

“Well, I guess I would buy her a drink, or ask her to dance. I dunno.” he sighed. “I could tell if she would say yes if I asked her back to my place. It wasn’t all the time, but often enough.”

She looked at him speculatively. “Ok, next question . . .” He groaned and shook his head. “Hey, I told you my whole life story! Do you remember the episode with Tara when you were trying to find the art auction and she told you to do the scary thing with your eyes?”

He looked at her, puzzled. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So, do you know that you do this.” She tugged him around to face her. “You lower your head just a little, and look like this right to the soul, and lean in, and give that sweet sexy smile,” She leaned toward him, “and that southern drawl comes out just a little more.” She pitched her voice a little lower, “‘Darlin’, you’d be doin’ me a favor.’”

“I don’t do that!”

“And then my heart starts beating faster, and I can’t breathe, and I forget what we’re talking about. I’ve seen you do it on those local TV show interviews. Some poor young lady losing her place and getting flustered when she interviews Christian Kane.”

“No!” He was laughing.

“So I can imagine you charming those women back to your place.” He just shook his head. “But what I was wondering is if you do it on purpose, or it’s just automatic.”

“No - what do you mean?”

“Well, did you think you had to charm me into letting you cook dinner or take me to bed or whatever?” she asked.

“Aw, hell no, darlin’,” he said. “I’m not trying to . . . trick someone, or something. I just pay attention.”

“I’m not mad.” She grinned and took his hand. “You look worried. I was actually afraid to bring it up, because I don’t want it to stop. It’s a powerful thing, being at the center of your attention.”

He just shook his head, and she was tickled to see that he was blushing - that was the first time she’d seen that. He looked up at her then, his head lowered and his eyes hooded just a little, his intense blue eyes drinking her in, and he wet his lip with the tip of his tongue. She felt a shiver as his thumb made a slow circle on her palm. She found she was holding her breath as he leaned toward her with a little one-sided smile.

“Is it, darlin’?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

“Um . . .” she couldn’t look away from his gaze, and had to swallow before answering. “Is what?” His grin broadened and he leaned back and the spell was broken. “Fuck you!” she said, laughing. “You _do_ do it on purpose!”

He was laughing too and pulled her back against him. “Sometimes. But I haven’t been doing it on purpose with you. I just pay attention.”

“Holy shit. That is powerful stuff.”

He chuckled. “I never had anyone call me on it as fuckin’ hard as you just did, though.”

“I was almost afraid to. I didn’t want it to stop.” She snuggled against him. “Do you remember when we went for a walk, and you realized I lived nearby? You asked if we could go see my house. You were doing it - I could feel my heart pounding - and you were surprised when I said no.”

“I don’t remember that,” he said. “Like I said, it hasn’t been on purpose. You’re just naturally the focus of my attention now, I guess.”

Lucky me, she thought, smiling. She pulled his arm around her front. She felt tucked in and safe, and kissed his arm in front of her as he stroked her shoulder. “That really hurt before,” she said.

His hand stilled. “What?”

“Before, when you kept shutting me out. I felt so close to you after the last few days, and I was surprised how much it hurt my feelings that you wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Fuck.” He sat up and turned to face her. “I am so sorry! I didn’t even think of that, I was just trying to work it out for myself.” She felt a pang when she saw the worry on his face.

“I know - it’s fine. We’re fine. I just noticed how I felt, so I told you.” She noticed an odd look on his face for a second. “What?”

“You’re not going to leave me guessing, are you?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” He was grinning as he shook his head. “I’m glad.”

“Ok.” She shrugged and leaned back against him again. “This is nice. I like it when I can get you stop and sit for a few minutes.”

They rocked in silence, then Amanda chuckled. “I just realized I was waiting for you to ask what we are up to today. If we sit five minutes you’re wondering what’s next.”

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I got plans today. I need to go get gas for the mower and chainsaw and get those going, and I haven’t played in a while, I’m gonna get the guitar out. And I want to work out today.”

“That sounds nice.” She felt him kiss her head and he stroked her arm where she was cuddled up to him. She was so glad that he sounded . . . happy. It was such a strange word to think of in their situation. They had to ignore every fact and reality just to be functional, but if they could do that, just live in the present, they could be content.

“Oh, I meant to tell you,” she said. “The sprouts are ready. We should do salads or something the next couple days and use them up.”

“Aw, that’ll be great. I can’t believe how good we’re eating.”

They finally got going on the rest of their day. Amanda baked the rolls and harvested greens and made a big salad with the alfalfa sprouts and some garbanzo beans for their lunch. Christian took the truck to fill it up and fill some gas cans and they both finished the weeding.

After lunch she put her laundry away and lingered in the hall to listen to Christian working out for a few minutes before knocking and pushing the door open. 

"Hey, sweetheart." He put up his weight and stood up. She stepped into his arms, pressing up against him.  

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure,” he said. She bit her lip to try to hide a grin and he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well, I wanted to know if I could brush out your hair.”

He laughed. “What? No, you know I don’t like anybody playing with my hair.”

“I’m not going to play with it, just brush it out.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I want to.” She laced her fingers behind his neck, stroking the soft skin with her thumbs. “Please?” She looked up into his eyes and let the tip of her tongue wet her lips as she leaned into him just a little.

“Hmm.” He lowered his head and grinned at her. “Now who’s trying to charm?”

“Me.” She leaned forward and tickled his neck with the tip of her tongue and said in a husky whisper, “I promise I’ll be gentle, and I’ll stop as soon as you say.”

He startled, then laughed. “You are a troublemaker.”

“So . . . is that a maybe?” she asked.

“Fuck, yes, you can brush my hair! Why, I don’t know, but fine.”

“Oh, good!” She reached up and pulled out the hair tie to let his long hair fall loose and pulled a hairbrush out of her back pocket.

“What, right now?” He shook it back out of his face.

“Yes. I’m afraid you’ll change your mind.” She took his hand and pulled him over to the bed and had him sit down, getting on her knees behind him. “There. Just relax.”

“This is fucking bizarre, Amanda.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” She used her fingers to gently run through his hair then started with the soft-bristled hair brush. She had first fantasized about this was when he was on _Leverage_ with perfectly straight shiny hair to his shoulders. Now it was much longer than that and just tumbled in waves around his face and down his back. He kept it up most of the time, as she did hers, to keep it out of the way. It was soft and silky under her hands and she brushed gently, running her fingers through it with each stroke.

“Did you have people do your hair on set?”

“Yeah, most of the time. It took about an hour to blow it out.”

“I bet you did on The Runway Job. Your hair was glorious on that episode, like Fabio. Better than Fabio.” His hair was thicker than she expected. She had played with it before, of course, had run her hands through it when they were making love, but she had never had the chance to do this. She found a tangle underneath but left it for now and just kept brushing, making each small section shinier and silkier.

“On the episode when you’re in the PTSD experiment, though - you don’t take off your hat for the entire show.” She could finally feel him start to relax under her hands. She put the brush down and just pulled her fingers through his long, soft hair, working out a few larger tangles but mostly just watching and feeling it flow through her hands before picking up the brush again.

“How do you know that?” He put his arms along the back of the sofa and leaned his head back a little into her hands.

She chuckled. “I’m sure you didn’t know what all your Kaniacs were up to, since you had, you know, a life to lead. There was discussion about the best hair episodes. I think I saw a fan video of the best hair video clips. There was one from the baseball movie with you running and this wonderful mane flying in the wind.”

“Ya’ll were crazy.”

“Yup. You knew that, though.” She leaned over and kissed the top of his head, catching the scent of his hair as she did. “There were so many women who fantasized about getting to do this.” She gently drew her fingernails along his scalp, feeling him relax further. “There was wailing and gnashing of teeth when you cut it for _The Librarians_.”

“Yeah, from me too.”

She finished up, leaving it smooth and shiny. She wanted to put her face in it, she realized, so she did, kneeling down and letting it cascade over her, feeling the silkiness on her skin. She smoothed it one more time and put it back in a low ponytail. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Nah, that was nice.”

“Thank you. You are a very patient and tolerant man.”

He scoffed. “Not really.”

“Yep. Sorry. You’re a nice guy.”

 

She finally turned him loose and both kept busy with their projects. By early evening she heard him tuning his guitar in the music room and went to join him.

She curled up in her usual spot on the loveseat. “If you ever want privacy to play, let me know. I don’t have to hang around.”

He looked up and grinned, flipping his hair back. It had been up all day but he had it down now. “Darlin’, I can’t imagine I would.”

She felt a warm glow and just settled back to watch him get lost in his world. He got out his notebook but mostly just played around, his eyes closed or head bent over his guitar, picking or playing chords, humming or singing along, mostly songs that were familiar to her this time. He had a bottle of scotch but hadn’t bothered with a glass, just sipping from the bottle as she had seen him do during concerts. He worked his way into _In the Darkness_ , one of her favorites and she sang along quietly.

 

Well I keep everything inside so long till it burns  
Everybody stokes the fire and the walls get a little higher.  
I light the candle at both ends   
And I hit the gas, the wheels start to spin  
But she's always there to catch me when I fall.  
  
'Cause I've been hell on wheels for days now  
There ain't a shade of red I can't paint  
When the lights go down, she always helps me see.  
In the darkness a day will come  
Another light for you to lean upon  
But until then maybe your heart  
Can rest in mine.

 

He looked up and grinned, picking through the chorus again. She was really tickled that he looked up at her for a reaction after almost every song. “I love that one. Who is it about?”

He looked down a second. “Sophia.” He shifted to a different key. “Here, you asked for this one that first day here.” She felt her grin widen and hugged herself when she heard the intro to _Different Kind of Knight._

 

You go believin' in your Lancelot  
Well it's all in vain  
And you're chasin' picket fences,   
There's always hell to pay.  
I met many a girl in here  
With the same story line -  
All them boys on those white horses  
Don't know how to ride.  
  
But I got a paint outside with enough giddyup  
To be free.  
I got a faint smell of cheap perfume  
And a hint of gasoline.  
See I'm a different kind of knight,   
You're gonna find your fairy tales are lies.  
I don't have a white horse  
But you can come along for the ride.

 

She sang along during the chorus and a few lines during the verses and she noticed him looking at her curiously a few times. As the song ended he put his hand on the strings. “All right - how in the hell do you know when to come in?”

“What do you mean?”

“You start singing just the way I wrote it. Like on this one, it’s not the whole chorus, I had Hank come in here -” he played the line - “and that’s what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I listened to it so many times and I always sing along on those parts, maybe that’s why.”

“Huh. Well, here - you know this one?” He played a few bars of one of his new songs, _Wildfire_. “Come here, let me show you where I want the backup, and maybe some harmony.”

“Oh my God, really? OK.” She went and stood next to him, her heart pounding.

He looked up. “What?”

“I’m getting a singing lesson from Christian Kane? What is even going on?” She stood up straight and clenched her hands at her sides. “Ok, sorry.”

He shook his head and grinned. He went over the song with her several times, singing first what he wanted her to sing, then having her try it while he sang the melody.

“Not bad.” He nodded and she felt a thrill to her toes. “That was fun. You tend to sing what I’m singing, though.”

“I know. I can match pitch a little, but that’s it. I really love singing, but I’m not very good at it. I can sing along with the radio or a choir, but I can’t sing what’s in my head.” She felt like she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. This was another fantasy-come-true moment.

“Once when I was in the choir,” she said, “the director was trying to sort something out and went down the line of second sopranos, asking which note we were on. They’re saying F, F sharp, F, F, F sharp or whatever. She got to me and I said, ‘Whatever Kari’s singing.’ What note am I singing - for God’s sake, I don’t know!”   
“Naw, come on, you got this. Here, you sing this -” he picked a note on the guitar several times until he was satisfied with how she was singing the note. “Now, when we get to this part -” he pointed at the notebook at the phrase ‘mama right behind’ - “you listen to the guitar, all right? These six notes.” He played them and she sang the phrase, again several times until he was content. “Now I’m singing melody, but you sing with the guitar. Got it?”

“Yes.” He was so intent on the music he didn’t really notice how wide her grin was or how she could barely stand still. She took in every word, trying to do exactly what he was asking.

“Hold on.” He played it through a few times himself then pointed at the notebook. “OK. Here and here, you sing with me. Here, you sing with the guitar. Ready?”

“Yes, sir.” He stopped and gave a quick half grin then started playing. She took a deep breath and did her best, and felt a thrill when on the third try she could tell she had hit those notes and he flashed her a quick grin.

“Good. That’s a start. We’ll do more with it later.” He leaned over his notebook and worked through a few more bars.

She went and curled up on the loveseat again and pulled the blanket up to her chin, squeezing it tight. “I can’t believe it. I feel like I’m dreaming again.” He flashed another grin at her, but he was immersed in his music and she just watched. It was amazing to see his focus when it wasn’t on her, to see how everything he did was with everything he had.

 

When Christian awoke the next day he turned and propped up on one elbow and watched Amanda sleep, as he often did when he woke first. He had played and sung until late at night, lost in his own world, but every time he had looked up, there she was. She had ended up laying down and curled up under her blanket on the loveseat, but with eyes shining, watching him. He reached out now and touched her face. It hadn’t been exactly like having an audience, because he had been playing just for himself, not as a performance.

It was like having a witness, he thought.

He thought about scooting over and pressing up against her body, which would be warm and languid from sleep, and kissing her awake. She wouldn’t mind, he thought. She would accept and welcome his kisses and touches, ready for whatever he was bringing, then get fired up and end up coming after him if he didn’t keep up.

Christian had a different view of Ryan after her story yesterday. He was glad he asked about him, even though he knew he shouldn’t of and that could have gone really badly. I never could keep my mouth shut, he thought, even when I damn well shoulda. ‘Poor guy,’ she had said. I don’t know about _that._

As close as he felt to her now, Christian wondered about what would have happened if he had met her before the end. Is it really her, or really something about us? Would I have felt like this about any woman I found, after being alone all that time? He couldn’t imagine he would have. He tried to picture her in line with a hundred others, waiting for their pictures at a Comic Con, the only place he was likely to have met her before the world ended. Had met her, in fact. He had a small grin when he realized that instead he was imagining sneaking her back to his room at the end of a long day at the Con.

Well, if he wasn’t going to wake her up, he might as well get up himself. He stopped at the kitchen and rinsed the sprouts, then scouted cookbooks and storage shelves and decided on a curried lentil sprout salad for lunch and a stir fry with mung bean sprouts and teriyaki chicken jerky with jasmine rice for dinner. He grinned as he figured out what garnishes he wanted and how he was going to plate them up.

For all those years after the crash, food was just something to get through and it hadn’t occurred to him that it was something he could still enjoy.

Amanda is right, though, he thought. All we have left is to enjoy what we can. It doesn’t help everyone who’s gone if we don’t.

They had finished the rabbit the night before so he thought about going hunting for more game and flipped through books getting ideas for rabbit and squirrel. He grinned again - and duck. He put away his laundry and sorted out his room, chopped some wood, worked in the garden, worked out with his weight bench, and showered.

Was it only two days, he thought as he rinsed off, since he went down on her? It made him hot just to think of it and he was already planning the next time. She just went insane, he thought. I’ve been with other women who were wildcats, who got as lost as that, but - is it the lack of distractions? Maybe he and Amanda were so connected because they had saved each other from the loneliness? How is it that intense every fucking time he touched her?

He shook his head at himself as he got dressed. He always did tend to mull things over, that’s where his songs came from, but this was a lot more mulling than usual. He tackled a job in the bathrooms and kitchen he’d been meaning to get to for a few days, then made sure the mower was set up and ready to go for Amanda - she had asked him not to mow until after she had first, because there were certain areas she wanted cut. He was starting to feel at loose ends when she finally appeared, rested and sleep-tousled.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He put down the groceries he was shuffling around and went and gathered her up in his arms. She was still warm from sleep and cuddled against him, letting him support her. “You slept in.”

“Yep. It was great.” She pulled back to look at him. “That was wonderful last night.” For just an instant he thought she was referring to sex, but then realized she meant the music. “I can’t believe you had me singing with you. That was amazing.”

“That was fun.” He smiled at her. Her eyes were shining as if they had just made love. He loved how excited she got about things. He didn’t want to ask what the plans were and start the day, he just wanted to hang on to her. How she had heard him play last night - “That meant a lot to me, Amanda.”

“It was an honor. It was amazing,” she said again.

“Let’s go sit for a spell.” He smiled again and kissed her nose at how her face lit up. He led her to the daybed in the parlor and stretched out on his back, pulling her down to cuddle next to him. He had put his hair up in a tie after his shower, and he just grinned when she got ahold of it and worked it out, running her fingers into his hair.

“Now,” he said, pulling her close against his side and tucking one hand behind his head, “Tell me about being in the church choir.”

“What??” She was laughing as she tucked one arm over his chest. “Are you kidding? Why?”

“I want to hear about it.”

“There’s not much to hear. I was terrible.”

He turned on his side, meeting her gaze, smiling.

“Fine,” she said. “Well, first of all, it was a Unitarian church, so we got to sing fun stuff. Lots of show tunes and world music.” She sighed. “I always loved to sing, but I never could. Couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket if I had to.” He grinned at the old country saying. “A few years ago -” she hesitated. ‘Well, a few years before, I took some voice lessons, and joined the choir. It was amazing.” She smiled and squeezed her arm around him. “I still can’t carry a tune by myself - I just can’t sing what’s in my head. But I sing along with everything I can.”

“Thank you, darlin’. You did fine last night.”

“I can’t believe you are even saying that.” She shook her head. “OK, now tell me how you started singing.”

He rolled to his back again and she draped herself across him. “I was singing my whole life. My parents weren’t too musical, but it was in the family. My cousin Branden had a band - by the time I was in college I was singing with him.”

He grinned. “There’s a video somewhere of me about six or eight, just singing my heart out at a family Christmas or somethin’. You can see my sister Jennifer on the side with her arms crossed - she was mad because it was supposed to be a video of her doing a ballet dance or something, but I jumped in and started singing. I just remember everyone carrying on over it. My grandparents would have me sing for their friends. That’s probably where I got my acting bug, too.”

“What did you sing?”

“John Denver. _Thank God I’m a Country Boy._ I don’t even know how I knew that. _”_

“Aw, I bet that was adorable. I would love to see you sing that,” she said.

He rolled over to look at her and pull her tight against him. “That’s me,” he said, deepening his southern accent. “Just an ol’ country boy.”

She reached up and cradled his head and he could feel her hand warm against him. “I like country boys.”

“Mmm.” He kissed her, soft and sweet, enjoying how she moved against him, soft kisses when soft kisses were called for and eating him up when that was right. He felt her relax into the bed and heard a soft moan in her throat as she twined with his tongue and then sucked on his lower lip. He tucked her against his chest. “We got nothin’ to do today, right, darlin’? We’ll just stay here all day?”

“Oh my gosh, I’ve ruined you.” She snuggled and shifted until she was against his neck and started kissing, teasing and tasting. He rolled to his back and let her at him, feeling shivers at her lips and teeth and tongue tickling the soft skin on his neck and throat, and behind his ear, and, um, down his chest . . .

Sometimes she was really trying to drive him crazy, to get him from zero to sixty, and he obliged. Sometimes it was like this, it wasn’t all about him but she was just . . . playing. For her own amusement, kissing and teasing and touching, enjoying his reactions but mostly just enjoying him.

When she went down on him in this kind of mood - sometimes, again, she was trying to get him hard and get him off, to please him, and she was good. But when it was for her own amusement, it was different, and amazing. She just loved touching him and kissing him, enjoying the feel of his cock wrapped in her hand or on her face or in her mouth and he never knew from what second to the next what sensation to expect.

She had his shirt unbuttoned and hands on him, kissing down his chest. He cradled her head then wrapped her in his arms and rolled her to her back, looking down at her shining eyes and flushed face, meeting his kisses and giving back more. He pulled back and brushed her hair back, stroking her cheek. She looked up and smiled. “I’m hungry,” she whispered.

“Hungry?” He pressed his hips against her.

She grinned. “Maybe in a little bit. I haven’t had breakfast.”

“Well, let’s take care of that.” One more lingering kiss, then they headed for the kitchen and he found himself telling her all about his cooking plans for the day. “It’s almost lunch - let’s just do that.”

“It is not! I didn’t sleep that late.” But she grinned and grabbed a yeast roll to hold her over while he got himself settled. She sat back and watched him cook like she was watching a show and seemed to enjoy every minute of it, and he served the curried lentil salad on a bed of sorrel and enjoyed her enthusiastic response.  

“Oh, Amanda,” he said as they finished up. “I got your mower all set - it’s ready to go.”

“Oh, good! Thank you! I’m gonna go do my path.” He smiled again at her excitement over every little thing and grabbed her for some kisses and hands all over her against the counter before they each headed off for their projects.

 

Christian got his rifle and sat on the patio to clean it - it was a bad habit to not clean it at the end of the day, but that had been a really bad day. He found the sound of the mower comforting - it made it sound like the days before the pandemic, and he liked being able to look up and see Amanda moving around above the tall grass.

When he realized it had been quiet for a few minutes he put his rifle up high on a shelf and stood to look - he could barely see her down on the ground, almost hidden by the grass and shrubs. He wiped his hands and headed over to find her sitting on the ground and the push mower tipped up on its side.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“I was trying to mow grass that was too high. It got all wrapped around. It jammed it up.” She pointed and sure enough, the long dry grass was wrapped around the motor above the blades like thread on a spool. He watched as she pulled at each long blade of grass, teased it loose from the tangle, and pulled it loose. The mower started to tip forward and she reached up and caught it, her finger an inch from the sharp blade. He caught his breath.

“Can I help?” he asked, hunkering down next to her.

“Nope. Thanks though.” She grinned at him and pulled another chunk of grass out of the knot, again catching the edge of the mower as it tipped toward her, the sharp blade shifting a quarter turn.

“If you. . .” he said.

“I got it.” She didn’t turn to look at him but he could see her grin from the side as she worked.

“You make me crazy, woman.”

“You’ll get over it.” She found a stick in the grass and started trying to dig through the stuck grass with that.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said. “I can’t fucking watch this.”

“Don’t then.” She tugged at a tuft that had come loose and he watched the blade slowly swing toward her hand.

“At least let me . . .” She turned then to look at him, her smile challenging, her head tilted, meeting his eye but her jaw set.

She is just daring me to say one more word, he thought. “All right, then. Call if you need me.” He stood up.

“Thank you, I will.” Her face softened and her smile was bright when she looked up. He shook his head and walked away, but made sure he stayed closed enough to hear her and get there quick if she yelled. He could see how she had sliced her leg open cutting wood - she just jumped into things without thinking them through or getting herself set up first.

If she got a scissors or shears, he thought, she could clip right through that, but he didn’t dare go over and suggest it.

He tried to busy himself by the house, but knew he was too distracted to finish with his gun. A few minutes later she was up rummaging through the garden tools on the porch. “It’s not coming loose. I need to cut through it.” She held up a sturdy hand pruner.

“That’s a good idea,” he said as evenly as he could. She headed back to the mower and he went close enough to see her propping the mower deck up with her _foot_ as she clipped at the grass.

She is insane, he thought. How did she survive this long? He found he was almost mad, watching her struggle when it would have taken him two minutes to sort it out. I’m right here, he thought. But she knew perfectly well he was right there.

Finally she was tossing handfuls of grass away and the mower was clear and upright and he took a deep breath. He grinned and shook his head as she took the pruner back to the porch and then headed toward him.

She makes me crazy, he thought.

 

She found her heart was beating fast after she tossed the pruners back on the bench and started toward Christian, standing watching her next to the garden.

That about killed him, she thought. She didn’t care if he hovered, but had he quit talking just in time - they were just about to have another problem. She caught up to him and just kept walking until she was cuddled up tight in his arms. She could feel him take a step back, not expecting her to come at him like that.

“Good job,” she said against his chest.

“You are crazy.”

“You know that by now.” She rubbed her face against his shirt. “Thanks for fixing up my mower.”

“I’m sorry I did now,” he grumbled, but pulled her tight against him and rested his head on hers.  

She realized she had an impulse to say ‘Thank you,’ but stopped herself. Thank you for what? For leaving her be? For letting the little lady try it by herself? “I’m going to go finish that up.” He groaned and held on for another second, then let her go.

As she walked away she heard him say, “Crazy,” and her grin was wide. He could mutter and fuss and groan all he wanted - she wasn’t going to tell him what to do.

She set the mower deck as high as it would go and mowed through the rest of her path, winding around the fruit trees, pond, statues, and pine trees. Whenever she looked up, Christian was just in sight. She shook her head, but she didn’t care - if he wanted to waste his morning following her around that was his business.

When she ran out of gas she pushed it to the garage. She felt grungy and gritty and smelled like grass and gas fumes. It had warmed up to a nice day so she got a big towel and her fancy soap caddy from the protected alcove on the patio, and Christian came up as she walked up to the hot tub.

He started to say something, but stopped and grinned when she stripped off her clothes and stood there naked. “Well, howdy.”

“Howdy, stranger,” she said. She threw back the tarp cover on the pool, scooped up a pitcher of water and poured it over herself, gasping a little at the coolness. She did another, letting it splash all over her and onto the ground, then got a washcloth of bath gel and soaped up. It felt strange with Christian standing an arm’s length away, his eyes taking her in and watching every move as she soaped herself up all over, but she just shrugged, grinning, and finished her business, pouring water to rinse herself, drying and putting her things away nude with her hair up in the towel.

“That’s better,” she said. She started toward the house and he was right behind her. “Don’t you have anything better to do than follow me around all day?”

“Nope.”

“I’m not going to get hurt on my way in to get clothes,” she teased.

“You never know.” His jaw was set and head tilted through his grin and his look was almost predatory as he again looked her up and down as if he couldn’t help it. Her heart was pounding in anticipation and she could feel she was getting wet just from his looks.

I can’t believe I’m not on my back already, she thought, but he didn’t say a word or reach for her, just followed her through the house and upstairs.

They had been teasing each other for days but she was sharply aware that they hadn’t had sex for two days. She was trembling and her breath was catching as she dropped the towel from her head, slowly got clothes out of the dresser and pulled on some panties, Christian still watching her every move as he stood in the doorway.

She couldn’t stand it any more and turned to face him as she pulled a shirt out of the drawer. “So, what are we doing?” she asked, her voice ragged.

“I dunno.” His voice was just as husky but he was just standing there, arms crossed, head tilted, looking at her.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry - this was delicious and infuriating. “Fuck you!” she yelled and threw her shirt at him.

“All right,” he said and then in two long strides he was finally, _finally_ on her, his arms warm wrapped around her, holding her tight, his hands everywhere and then cradling her head as he kissed her, frantic but still not hard, just tasting and playing. She expected to be tumbled to the bed beside them but he braced himself and pulled her up hard against him, his hands on her ass sliding her panties down, and then up her back, one arm around her as he kissed down her neck, holding her up as her knees grew weak as he settled on her favorite spot with soft kisses and little bites.

“You were making me crazy, looking at me like that and not touching me,” she gasped. She was only on her feet from his arms around her and her hands on the back of his neck.

“You’ve been making me crazy for two fucking days,” he growled against her neck. “You make me insane.” And again he was devouring her, her neck, up her throat, to her breasts, to her mouth, just possessing her now. He backed her up and lowered her to the bed, kissing her until she was on her back, then stood up and pulled off his shirt and kicked off his pants and was back, stretched out naked on top of her, holding her head and kissing her, his cock hard and hot against her thigh.

“You make me crazy,” he said again, holding her head and his eyes sharpening as he felt her thrusting her hips against him.

“Because I’m so irritating or because I’m so hot?”

He laughed. “Some of both,” and then he was kissing her again and she was swept away and again her whole world was filled up with him. They were both frantic with need, both physically and from the emotional rollercoaster of the last few days, their kisses hard and their hands demanding. She pushed him to his back and slid down and had him in her mouth before he knew what was happening, taking the whole thing. He thrust against her, hand on her head, and she moaned from the pleasure of it, but when she felt his grip change and he was urging her up she slid back up his body and he was kissing her, his tongue taking the place of his cock in filling her up.  His hand slid down her body and up her thigh, and she anticipated the groan against her mouth when he felt how wet she was.

She spread open, letting him touch her, pushing against him, and then started whimpering, trying to shift her hips under him. “Please, please . . .”

“Please what?” His voice was almost harsh in her ear.

“Please take me, inside me,” and he was over her, against her, but waiting, her legs up around him, trying to pull him in, and she looked up into his blue eyes and he was finally moving into her a little at a time. She could feel every centimeter as she spread open for him, hot and hard.

As frantic as they were she had expected him to take her hard, so this was delicious torture. Finally he filled her up and was moving on her, in her, and she felt the wash over her body, the feeling like no other of becoming his universe, of him losing himself as he climaxed and filled her up, holding on to her and shaking, his cries sounding torn from his throat.

She felt the last gasps and then he was collapsed on her, breathing hard and damp from sweat. As soon as he caught his breath he tried to slide over but she kept her arms wrapped around him.

“Not yet,” she said, breathless herself. “Oh my God, that was wonderful.”

He just groaned and nuzzled her neck and she felt him relax, his body sink into her. He was a little heavy but she could still breathe and she loved feeling him contain her like this. She cradled his head and kissed on his shoulder. He finally took a deep breath and moved to the side.

“Wow, baby.” He lay on his side and looked at her, his eyes soft and shining.

“That was wonderful.” she said again. “How did you have the self-control to go slow? I was ready for you to pound me.”

His grin was so broad she could see every laugh line around his eyes. “I like to keep you guessing.” His expression softened as he gazed at her. “I just wanted to feel every bit.”

“Baby, that was AMAZING.” She caught her breath as she moved against him.

“Can I help you with something?” His hand cupped her breast and then traveled down her body.

“No, I am so good.” He snuggled up, pulled her close and kissed her head. She heard his breathing deepen and she closed her eyes and drifted off to the beat of his heart.

 

She woke from her doze to wavy hair framing smiling blue eyes, as she often did. “Hi, beautiful,” he said softly.

“Mmmm.” She stretched. “That was wonderful.”

“I’m glad,” he said.

She snuggled in next to him and they lay wrapped around each other. “I think you were right before,” she finally said. “We don’t have anything we need to do. We’ll just stay here. Forever.”

“Sounds good.” He lay on his back with one arm behind his head and the other around her shoulder.

She propped up on her arm and ran her hand over his chest. “That was killing you, watching me with that mower, wasn’t it?”

“You are the most fucking stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” he growled. She grinned. She never knew anyone else that actually growled, but when he was turned on or irritated his voice could sound like a bear.  

“You did good. If you had said one more word, we would have had a problem.”

“I somehow knew that.” He turned to look at her. “What that a test?”

“Well, I didn’t jam the mower just to irritate you, but . . . I was watching to see how that would go.” He just shook his head, but she saw he was still smiling and his face was soft. Amanda noticed that there was a thought in her head, worried that she had made him mad. Fuck you, she said to that thought.

“Do you mind that I stand up for myself?” she asked him.

“I LOVE that you stand up for yourself.” He grinned. “I think you pick fucking bizarre things to pick a fight about, but I know where I stand. And that, darlin’, is a precious thing.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. He just shook his head and lay back, pulling her close again.

Even though they had both decided they would never get up again, eventually they were down in the kitchen, Christian working on the stir fry and starting some pea and radish sprouts while Amanda watched and paged through cookbooks.

 

Amanda helped herself to more of the stir fry and rice.

“That is so good,” she said and watched the grin that lit up his face. “It’s amazing what you can do with the jerky. And I love having crunchy veggies.”

After dinner she suggested a bonfire, and as twilight fell he built a fire in the stone fire pit in the overgrown formal garden while she cleared off the lawn furniture and got them some drinks. They cuddled up, watching the sparks fly and the solar garden lights glow like little moons in the meadow. Jack wanted to be on Amanda’s lap but was sent to curl up by the fire with Cody.

“That was a crazy day, it felt like,” she said.

“A crazy few days,” he agreed.

They sat in silence for several minutes and then she took a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She was quiet and he turned to look at her. “What’s up?”

“The other day, after -” She stopped. “You said something about cutting me loose. You said you couldn’t trust yourself, but couldn’t cut me loose.” She reached up and touched his face, tucking his hair behind his ear. He watched her and waited, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you thinking of leaving?” she finally asked softly.

“No. God no.” His eyes searched her face and her heart tightened at the - fear? pain? she saw so naked on his face.

“No,” he said again. “I’m worried I’m no good for you, and I’m scared on how this will go, but I can’t leave.” He started to speak and then stopped and she saw his face go still and drawn. “Unless you need me to go.”

“Well, then I guess you’re not going anywhere.” She found she could breathe again. “Oh, good. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Not if I can help it.”

She turned on her side and wrapped her arm around him and he pulled her close. “I remember you said that before,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“You were talking about _Different Kind of Knight_. You said what you usually do, that you wrote it so you could stop apologizing to women for the way you are, and then you said you aren’t any good for anybody. You’ve had your heart broke and you’ve broken more, that you can love but not for long. You said you can’t be trusted with someone’s heart. It just . . . “ She rested her head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat. “It made me so sad. I just so wished you could be happy and have someone if you wanted.”

He was still and quiet for so long that she again felt a bubble of anxiety, worried she had said the wrong thing, but she took a deep breath and tried to let it go.

“It wasn’t always like that,” he finally said.

“That’s good.”

He looked away and his voice was gravely and low. “What I want to tell you is I was playing it up for the interview, and that was just for the image. But I can’t tell you that.”

“Ah, baby.” She tucked in closer and reached up and touched his face, and his arm tightened around her again. “You are so good for me, but I don’t think I have any way of convincing you. Just don’t . . . leave because you think you have to protect me.”

“I won’t leave if you don’t kill yourself doing something stupid.” He finally turned back to her and pulled her close.

“It’s a deal.”


	14. Chapter 14 - There's something I want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've only been together two weeks, but how close and how vulnerable can you allow yourself to be when all you have is each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian Kane or his music, or how sweet he is or how much he has to protect himself, or how vulnerable that makes him when the defenses are down (I imagine).

 

The next morning she was already gone when Christian awoke, and he found her down in the kitchen eating some freshly made biscuits. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “What are you up to today?” He helped himself and grinned at the memory of the kitchen counter as as he scooped out some dark cherry and merlot preserves that she had opened. 

“Spa day, maybe,” she said. “Or read. I might fire up the hot tub. What about you?” 

“I was thinking a road trip. I wanted to get started on your wood-fired bread oven, so I’m headed over to Home Depot.” 

“Oh, thank you! That will be great.” She finished her biscuit and got out some juice. 

He hesitated and realized he was waiting for her to ask, ‘Do you want company?’ as she usually did. “Do you want to come along?’’

“No, I’m good.” 

“We can stop somewhere else, too, if you want.” 

She stopped and looked at him. “No, I’m good. I don’t want to go out today. You go.” 

“Ok.” She finished up her breakfast and left the house. He found he was irritated, but didn’t know why. He did think after their talk last night she would feel close and want to be with him, but just because they spent so much time together didn’t mean they had to spend every minute. 

He got his stuff together and double checked what he needed on his project. On the way to his truck he saw Amanda reading in her hammock. He paused, but decided not to holler goodbye to her and headed for his truck. 

As he headed north on Hamilton Road, the thought of poking around the big dusty store in the dark by himself seemed less and less appealing. He passed a large white farmhouse on his left with a old blue blue pickup truck in front and something jogged his memory - that’s right. This place had a pole barn out back with some lumber and masonry supplies. He had found it on a walk and had made a mental note in case it would come in handy. He turned around, pulled in and got what he needed. He was headed back to the house a few minutes later, and wondered if he would be back in time to help Amanda with firewood for the hot tub. He grinned. Maybe she would like company. 

He parked the truck in the visitor’s lot on the other side of the carriage house so he could get out his supplies where he needed them and walked over to the house. As he got closer he could hear music - where was that coming from? It was some kind of Native American music with lots of drums. 

He got to the doorway into the parlor and stopped short - Amanda was nude, arms stretched up, moving to music from a portable CD player on the desk. She was facing away and hadn’t seen him and hadn’t heard him over the music. He quickly stepped back out of sight.

Shit, he thought. That first day they met she said she danced around naked and he had teased her about it. There’s nobody to peek in the windows, she said. That’s why it seemed like she wanted me to leave this morning, he thought. 

He crouched down behind the columned half-wall into the foyer. He knew he should just sneak out and leave, stay away for a decent amount of time, come back later and pretend he hadn’t seen a thing. He heard a thump over the music and found a way to peek out around the wall and through a big fake palm - she shouldn’t be able to see him unless looking directly at him. She was crouched on the ground, then suddenly pushed herself up, pointing one foot and leaping, landing with another thump. 

She stretched up again, facing him but with her eyes closed, leaning over as far as she could one way and then the other, as if to see how far her body would stretch. She stretched up as high as she could, reaching up with both hands, her body long and slim and her breasts high, and then folded forward and sank to the ground, to rise again with the next beat. 

He couldn’t walk away, even while silently berating himself for violating her privacy. Sometimes she moved to the music, sometimes to her own rhythm, swaying or jumping, sometimes running her hands over her own body, once grasping her breasts. 

Oh shit, he thought. The drums were pounding like his heartbeat and he felt his palms sweating. The next song came on with a much faster beat and some kind of chanting and she started moving faster, shaking her whole body. It was sexy as hell, but it wasn’t for him, it wasn’t meant to be sexy, it was just her in her own world. 

The CD ended, and it was quiet except for her hard breathing. He ducked down behind the wall, trying to figure out how to sneak out. He heard her steps and the click of the CD player. 

I never even noticed the fucking thing, he thought. But good - if she was putting in more music he would have a chance to slip away. The music started, a long note from a harmonica, and he froze. 

Oh, hell no. At the next note he shook his head. You are fucking kidding me, he thought. It was his music, his song  _ House Rules _ she was dancing to. He peeked around the wall and saw her moving as if in a dream, eyes closed, faster and faster to the music. The lyrics started and she was singing, almost shouting, every word, singing loud and fast and responding with her whole body to his voice and music. 

 

So you're tired and you're beat

And you worked all week

And you need a place you can let it go

Where the girls go wild

And the boys play hard

And you need a little more than just the radio.

 

Well here’s your open invitation!

With just a couple regulations 

Let me warn you son

Only come to have fun, 

We don’t take kindly to serious

 

It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Her arms were up, her hands in her long hair, pulling it back, her naked body was moving with abandon, and she was growling or roaring his words, her head back and forth, her eyes closed. The song ended and he saw her leaning over, breathing hard, then flip her hair back. He could see sweat glistening, and she wiped her eyes - was she crying?

The next song started,  _ Something’s Gotta Give, _ and she was moving again, but slower. As silently as he could he slipped out of the house. 

He walked back to his truck and leaned against the tailgate, his arms crossed. He shook his head every time he tried to think it through. He was horny as hell, for one thing, and it wouldn’t do to show up at the house like that. He whistled for the dogs and started down the street - a walk would kill some time and give him a chance to cool down.

He wondered what else she had given up when he moved in. She was pretty stubborn, and so insistent that she wouldn’t change anything for him - he wouldn’t have thought there was anything she was hiding, but he hadn’t expected what he’d seen. The little time they weren’t together, she was listening to his music?  

He threw a stick into some tall weeds and watched the dogs scout for it. They were so little all you could see was the grass moving as they went through. He missed his big wolf hybrids, dogs that had a presence, dogs that you had to contend with.

He felt a twinge as he thought of Amanda. How attached was she to him? What would happen if he did leave? Not that he ever intended to. He felt like he could stay with her forever. But he always felt that way when he was with someone - until he didn’t. He would never go off by himself, anyway, but someday they might run into someone else. 

He called for the dogs and headed back to Laurel Court. It spooked him, sometimes, how much she knew about him. She knew details that he had forgotten he’d ever shared on some podunk radio station interview. He had trouble believing it back then, and still had trouble believing it now, how much he and his music or acting might mean to someone. He felt a heat in his chest that spread at the thought of being so needed, but it scared him too.

He got to his truck and drove around to the front and up the long driveway, getting out and slamming the door hard for good measure. He went in carefully, but the house was silent and there was no sign of her. He went out to the porch to check the hammock and gardens then went back in, looked around, and headed upstairs. 

“Amanda?” He looked in each room and found her in bed under the covers in their master suite. He approached quietly in case she was sleeping but she turned when she heard him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Are you OK?” He sat next to her on the bed. 

She turned to look at him. Her eyes were red, and she was wearing clothes, he noticed. “Yeah. I’m fine.” She wiped her eyes with the sheet.

“Do you want company?”

She took a deep breath and looked at him. He reached out and brushed her hair back from her face. 

“Yeah,” she said finally. “I do.” She scooted over to make room for him and he lay down next to her and put his arm around her. She cuddled in close with her hands tucked in front of her, between them.

He held her and kissed her head. “You OK?” he asked again. 

“Yeah. Just crying because everyone is dead.” 

There was nothing to say. He kicked off his boots and tucked the blanket around them and held her.

After a few minutes she sighed and he felt her relax. “How was your trip?”

“Fine. Boring. I got what I needed.” He paused. “It was kinda weird - we don’t often go off by ourselves.” He wanted to say more, to tell her that if she needed some space she should tell him, but wasn’t sure if that would give away what he saw. “To be honest with ya, I was surprised you didn’t want to go with me.” 

She shrugged against him. “I just wanted some time alone.” 

There we go, he thought. Thank you! “Amanda, you can tell me that any time. You don’t have to say why or anything. I’d be glad to go take a drive and explore the town if you need space. Like you said, we have a whole world. No reason we got be getting on each other’s nerves.” 

“You don’t get on my nerves,” she said. “I love having you here.” 

“Well, for whatever reason.” He gently touched her chin and moved her to meet her eyes. “OK?” 

“Sure. What about you? Do you ever need space?” 

He stopped to consider. “Not yet, I guess. It’s only been, what, about two or three weeks? Sometimes we only see each other a couple of times between breakfast and lunch. I guess that’s enough space for me right now. I’ve got a lot of loneliness to make up for.” 

She was quiet for so long he thought she wasn’t going to answer. “There’s no way to make up for it,” she finally said.   

“I know.” He kissed her hair.  

“Before you came, I could manage to not think about it. I just did my stuff and kept busy. With you here, it’s better. A LOT better.” She kissed his jaw. “When I’m with you, and especially when we are making love, it all just disappears. But in between, it’s harder.  I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He felt panic start to well up as he held her. She didn’t ask me to leave, he thought. She didn’t say she needs to be alone again. She said it’s better with me here. I think. “But you needed some time alone today?” 

“I guess once the feelings start coming up I have to deal with them. It sucks, though. It wasn’t better when I was numb, but this is hard.”  She wiped away some tears with the back of her hand.

“You let me know anything I can do.”

“I know.” She cuddled closer and he felt her release a long, shuddering sigh. 

After a few more quiet moments, he said, “I never forgot for an instant until I was here with you.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nope,” he said. “Every second I felt it. I don’t know how I could stand it. Now, sometimes, for a little while I can just do what we’re doing and not think about everybody.” 

“I’m glad.”

“Listen.” He waited until she looked at him. “I’m serious about this. If you need some space you fucking tell me. Don’t leave me guessing what the hell is going on.” 

“If I can.”

“What do you mean, if you can?”  

“I don’t know sometimes,” she said. “I can’t tell how I feel or what I need.  Sometimes I think I should be feeling something but I don’t.  You’ll know as soon as I do, how about that?” 

“I guess that’s all I can ask for,” he said. She sighed and cuddled in closer, and he just held her and listened to her breathe as she drifted off to sleep.  

When Amanda woke up from her doze, she smiled at him. “Thank you. I feel a lot better.” 

“I’m glad.” 

“I think this is going to be a take-it-easy day for me.” 

“Good idea,” he said. He cuddled with her a little more, and then got up and came back a little later with lunch on a tray, some soup and green salad and leftover bread.   

“Thank you! That’s wonderful!” He grinned at the hugs and kisses he got for that and they enjoyed lunch together in bed. She was much quieter than usual, but he didn’t press or ask any questions. 

He did notice every time she reached out or scooted over to touch him, and how her eyes searched his face and how she relaxed and returned his smiles. Each time eased his irrational fear that she was going to decide it was too hard having him here, stirring up all these feelings.   

 

Amanda cuddled with the dogs and read, and eventually got up to use the upstairs toilet. It caught her attention that the water jug was full. She got dressed and checked the others - all the bathroom, the kitchen and the cook shack jugs were full.  She found Christian in his weight room and tapped on the door. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey, darlin.” He put the bar up on the stand and sat up. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m fine. Thank you for lunch,” she said. “Did you fill up all the water jugs?”  

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes just a little. “Yep.”

“Thank you!”  She was in his lap and giving him kisses. “That was so sweet.” 

He was laughing and shaking his head, but holding her close. “I never goddamn know what to expect with you.”  

“Wh -” she pulled back to look at him. “Oh - did you think I’d be mad?” 

“You were mad before.”

She was laughing too. “This isn’t hard, Christian. You can do whatever the hell you want, except tell me what to do. I don’t care if you fill up jugs - that was very thoughtful. You just can’t tell me that I can’t.”

“Got it.”

She settled against him. “It was partly my fault. All those times I just automatically said, ‘No, that’s Ok, I’ll do it’ and then let you do it anyway - how would you know that no means no?” He was looking at her with an odd, puzzled expression. “I need to pay attention and say yes if I mean yes,” she continued.

“All right. Sounds good to me.” He didn’t look convinced but she gave him one more squeeze and went to gather some snacks and head for her hammock. She had felt exhilarated from her dancing - it had been a way of feeling something, anything, before Christian came. 

Usually, after, she was a mess for a while, unable to keep the feelings back, but to have him show up and hold her, keep her safe and remind her she wasn’t alone - it was different this time. She felt some of the sadness and grief wash through her, but it didn’t wash her off her feet and carry her along this time. 

She read and dozed for a few hours, at one point cajoling Jack to jump up and cuddle with her. He settled down and enjoyed the mommy time, but Cody wanted nothing to do with the swinging hammock. She enjoyed putting down her book and watching Christian move about the estate, taking the trash away and working in the garage and yard. 

She was just thinking of getting up when he came over to check on her. “Hey, Amanda. How are you?”  

She laughed as put down her book. “I’m fine! It’s not the end of the world if I cry, Christian.”  

He grinned back. “Just making sure.” 

“I guess I better cry more to get you used to it. Here, lay down with me.” She noticed he didn’t need nearly as much convincing as he had a week ago. They cuddled and swung and she held him while he dozed, his head resting on her.  

“I’m getting a little restless,” he said at one point. “I don’t really need anything, but I was wondering if you’re hankering for a road trip.” 

“Sure, we can do that.” She pulled the rope again and set them swinging. “There’s lots of stuff we can do. We could just take off and explore, or we could go through some museums. It’s really creepy but kinda cool. Or, we could go down to the river.”  

She grinned. “That would be fun. We’ll go downtown to the Ohio River. I’ve been nervous about getting out on water because if something happened I’d be screwed, but with two of us maybe we can scare up some kayaks and get out.” 

He was smiling as she got more and more excited. “Good. We’ll have to think on that, then.” He stretched. “I’m about to get up and get my rifle. I wanna get some more meat. You be alright if I head out for a bit?” 

She pulled back a little to look at him. “Yes. Wow. I definitely need to cry more.“ 

He just shook his head, grinning. “Will the pups stay here with you?”

“Yep, I’ll make sure they come in with me. Thank you! I’m excited for some more fresh meat.”

He turned, facing her, and studied her. She took a deep breath and smiled as she looked back into his eyes. She was getting used to the way he just seemed to need to look into her soul. After love-making it was easy to be open to him, but even at times like this it was if he had to stop and check that she was real.

“All right,” he said softly. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t worry if it gets late, though.”

“You got it.” She leaned forward and kissed him, closing her eyes and feeling him soft and warm and giving against her. 

“Mmm.” He smiled. “That’s nice.”

She watched as he went in the house and came out with rifle and waved as he went down the driveway. She decided a spa day was in order and put a big pot of water on to heat. She raided her stash of expensive creams, lotions, masks, exfoliants, salt scrubs and sugar scrubs that she rarely splurged on before the pandemic and she used them all, one after the other.  

 

It was just dark when Christian got home, tired but happy with four squirrels. “These animals have no fear. I could have taken four dozen.” He dropped them on the table, stopped to scarf down some leftover lunch and then came to her to sweep her up in a hug. “You smell good.” 

“It was spa day.” 

He stopped to look at her, smiling, and then leaned down for a kiss, soft but urgent enough for her to feel her breath catch. “I better go clean up, then. I’ll take care of these boys -” he motioned to the squirrels - “And then we’ll go on to bed?” 

“Yes. That sounds good.” She cuddled against his chest. “I’ll meet you up there.” 

He didn’t have any sense of time anymore, but maybe a half hour or an hour later he came in, damp and clean and nude and slid between the covers and up against her, gathering her in his arms.  Usually they chatted about their day but she didn’t say anything, just scooted close and clung to him. He just held her, running his hand down her back.  He felt that she was trembling. 

“You OK, sweetheart?” he finally asked. She nodded, so he just cuddled her against him and kissed her head.     

It was several more minutes before she murmured against his neck, “Can I ask you for something?” 

He could barely hear her. “Yes - you can ask me for anything.” He was suddenly alert. He tried to pull back to see her but she looked away and wouldn’t meet his gaze and he could feel the tension in her body. “Darlin’, what is it? Are you ok?” 

“There’s something I want.”  

“Yes. Anything.” She shook her head, and he found he was holding his breath. “Hey.” He reached out and cradled her cheek. “You can trust me.  If I can’t or don’t want to, I’ll tell you. You aren’t making me do anything.” 

She took a big breath, looked down, and finally said, “What I want is to lay naked on the bed, with candles all around, and just have you touch me all over like this,” she ran her fingertips lightly up his arm and left a trail of shivers, “not focusing on favorite spots or avoiding any place, just touching me all over.” She peeked up at him.  

“OK -” he waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “That’s all?” She nodded. “Fuck - are you kidding?  I would love to do that.” He tried to catch her eye but she had lowered her head again. “Really. That is not much to ask.” He hesitated and he knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help asking, “Ryan wouldn’t do that?”

“He would get distracted and focus on his favorite parts, or he’d get bored and doze off.  I quit asking after a few times.”

“Bored? How the hell -”  He stopped and took a breath. “Yes, I would love to.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her, but her eyes were closed and she still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Do you want to now?” She nodded, still not looking at him.   “Okay. You wait here.” He pulled the covers up over her. “I’ll be right back.” Where were the closest candles, he thought as he headed for the music room. It seemed like such a small thing to him, but he could tell this meant a lot to her. 

 

Amanda lay still, feeling her body thrumming in anticipation and her heart pounding, and he was back in a few minutes, his arms full of candles. He set them up all around the bed, pulling over a hamper and small bookshelf so the bed would be surrounded and lit them all. The room glowed with golden light. 

He came back to bed and eased the cover back. “Can I undress you?” His voice was low and husky. She shivered and nodded with her eyes closed.  He gently eased her clothes off. She lay on her back and there was just a moment of nothing, then his hand was stroking her face, gently down from her temple to her cheek, his thumb caressing her lips and his fingers trailing over her neck. 

She opened her eyes and watched him. He caught her gaze and smiled, sweet and slow, and she saw his focus as his eyes followed his hands over her body, his hair in damp waves around him. His hand traveled down, fingertips over her shoulder, down over her breast, very lightly grazing her nipple 

She felt his weight shift, and then the fingertips of both hands were traveling over her body, just as she had shown him. Over her abdomen, her hips, then one hand continued down her leg. The other hand went to her shoulder and down her arm, his fingers gently going back and forth as they traveled down slowly, feeling every inch of her, right on the edge of tickling. When he got to her hand he traced each finger, then she felt his warm hands cradle hers as he caressed her palm and up the sensitive skin of her forearm, then she felt two hands tickle down her leg, swirling around to graze over her. 

Everywhere he touched left a trail of goosebumps, and she felt as if she was being drawn or defined, created out of thin air as he went. She could feel the edges of herself, and could feel how closely he must be looking at her and seeing her. He trailed up her thighs, brushed over her mound and hips and stomach, fingers circling to touch every part. He was back up to her face, two hands gently tracing her, gentle flutters on eyelids and lips. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” she heard, almost under his breath. Every part of her had been touched and seen and cherished and he started again, just as attentive and gentle. 

She sighed deeply and reached for his hand as it moved down her arm, guiding him up to lay next to her. She turned in his arms and lay facing him, smiling and her eyes shining, glowing from the candlelight. “Thank you.” She kissed him, soft and sweet, and nestled against him, scooting against him until his arms were wrapped around her. 

“That was purely my pleasure.” He returned her kisses, then as she drifted off he slipped out of bed to blow out the candles and pull up the comforter and then slip back into her arms. 

 

 

The next morning she woke relaxed and refreshed. She stretched and smiled as she looked over at Christian, facing her, sound asleep. She scooted over and eased into his arms, but he was a light sleeper if he hadn’t been drinking and he was coming awake by the time she was kissing on his neck. “Mmm.” He rolled to his back with one arm around her. 

She propped up and caressed his face. She had felt like she had been floating the night before, with Christian touching her, seeing her. She felt taken care of and safe. He opened his eyes as she cradled his face and returned her smile. “That was wonderful last night. Thank you,” she said softly. 

“I’m glad. You never have to ask twice for me to touch you naked.” She smiled and cuddled up, her arm over his chest and her leg thrown over his, resting her head on his shoulder with his arm holding her close. This was a familiar and comfortable position for both of them by now, and they each had a hand free to touch each other. 

“Can I ask you something about last night?” he finally asked. 

“I loved it. I feel so taken care of.” She looked up at him, eyes shining. 

“I’m glad. I loved it too.” He kissed her nose. “Amanda, why was it so hard to ask for me for that?” His blue eyes were so warm, with just a hint of a crease between them. She shook her head and hid her face against his chest. 

“Hey.” He gently turned her face to look at him. “Talk to me.” 

She closed her eyes against his gaze. “I don’t know.” 

She heard him sigh and felt him pull her close and kiss her forehead. He tucked her head under his chin and she cuddled up against his chest. “I’m glad you asked. You hardly ever ask me for anything.” He held her, then pulled back a little to try to see her face again. “I wish I knew why.” 

What if you leave, she thought. She couldn’t make herself say it out loud. They were independent, either could walk away. Even though he had said two days before he wasn’t leaving, if he got it in his head that somehow it would be better for her, he could. Or he could disappear, for no reason - you couldn’t pretend anymore that  _ that _ couldn’t happen. She looked up and focused on his eyes - he was looking at her with such love and concern. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t want to do that for you?” The crease deepened between his eyes. “Amanda, you don’t trust me?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “You aren’t going to give up, are you?”

“No, ma’am. Whatever this is, you aren’t alone anymore.” 

“What if you leave,” she said softly, before she could think. 

“What?”

“What if you leave? What if you disappear? What if I get dependent on you, and I need you -” she had to stop for the catch in her throat, “and then you were gone.” 

“I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You can’t promise me that,” she said. “Where did everyone else go?” 

“You’re the one who says she lives for today,” he said softly. “This is today. If you hold yourself back from me, I don’t think it will make it any easier if one of us disappears tomorrow.”  

“I can’t think about it.” He felt that she was trembling and held her close. 

“Can’t think about what?” 

“I don’t understand. How did my family die, where did everyone go, and how are you here? How is this . . . ” A sob escaped, and she clung to him. “I thought about you a lot.” She looked up. “I know I told you, but you have no idea . . . I had no time to deal with Ryan dying, both kids, and my dad, my sisters, then everyone, everything falling apart. I can’t think about them, It’s just . . . . I can’t.” 

She was gasping, trying to catch her breath. “But I had seen you so much, on the shows and videos and playing your music. You were so amazing, and tough, and gentle. I would be taken care of. Christian Kane takes care of people. I could picture how you would act and what you would be like, I would think that, like, you were out working and would be back. I’d pretend you were out on tour and how you would look at me when you got back. It was all happy memories.”  

She turned to look at him, her blue eyes bright with tears. “And here you are, real. I don’t understand. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. But I don’t think I can be by myself again.” 

His eyes were bright, as well. He pulled her close and held her tight. 

“Me too,” he said, his voice rough. “I don’t know how this is happening either.” She took a deep breath and could feel that he was shaking too. “Amanda, the only reason I was still alive is I was too much of a coward to put the gun to my head. I was gonna drink until I ran the truck into a fucking wall. And there you were.” He pulled back to look at her. “Here you are. Every day, I can’t believe you are here. I was too fucked up to stay with anyone before, and after . . .” 

He searched her face, and her breath stopped when she saw the need she felt reflected in him. “Why haven’t you left?” he asked. “Or kicked me out?” 

“Why do you ask me that? I don’t understand.” 

“Because I’m not fit to live with.” His voice truly was a growl, now, so low and rough and in so much pain it hurt her heart. “I wasn’t before, and I sure as hell ain’t now.”

“I . . .” she stopped. “I cared about you and thought about you so much before I ever knew you.  Now . . .” She caught his face between her hands. “You are amazing. You are kind, and strong, and sexy, and smart, and you respect who I am so much . . .” He was shaking his head. 

She pulled him in for a kiss and realized that her own fear was easing in the face of his pain and fear. “Why do you think you’re so awful?” 

He laughed, then, finally. “Well, not awful . . .” 

“So you secretly think, what, that I think it’s terrible living with you and I’m just waiting for you to make one more mistake so I can kick you out?” He shook his head a little but looked down, away from her.  “I love being with you. I love everything about it. I love that stuff happens that I didn’t expect. I think it’s OK if we get mad or sad, and it’s kind of unbelievable that I’ve actually been happy in the last few weeks.”

“Me too. I never thought I would feel anything like this again.” 

“Christian.” She waited until he looked at her. “And even if I had never heard of you before Nashville, I’d be pretty impressed by now.” She leaned forward and kissed him again, soft at first and then more aggressively. Often he was the one in control but she shifted until she had his head cradled beneath her and explored his mouth, teasing and tasting and he let her lead.  “Mmm.” She finally pulled back to look at him.  “That’s fun.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He reached up and cradled her head, pulling her down for one more kiss, and then she cuddled next to him again.   

“All right,” she said. “Here is what I secretly believe.” I could be anybody, she thought. I’m lucky it’s you, but for you, I could have been any one of ten thousand women you met who would have saved your life. She knew he truly cared about her, but he would feel the same by now about any woman he met. She stopped and looked away. 

“Maybe not. I don’t . . . no, I don’t think I’ll say it now.” He would feel bad and deny it, even though they both would know it was true, and he would try to prove her wrong. It might change things, she thought. I can’t unsay it.  

“What?” He pulled back to meet her gaze. 

“Nothing.”  He tilted his head and raised his eyebrow. “No.” She snuggled back in.  “Another time.”  

He held her and she kissed on his neck and focused on the scent of him and the feel of his skin and the muscles shifting against her when he moved. “I’m so glad you asked for that last night,” he said against her hair. “You ask anytime, darlin’. I loved it.” He kissed her again. “Are you OK?” 

“Yeah.”  She took a deep breath. “I am. Thanks. Are you?” 

There was a pause. “Yeah. This just takes getting used to, I guess.”

They eventually got up and rest of the day fell into their loose routine. They spent the morning figuring out recipes and cooking - Christian declared they would have buttermilk-fried squirrel, and braise and stew the rest.  Amanda started some bread while Christian kept her company, and they worked in the garden together and found plenty of greens for a salad, along with the broccoli sprouts that needed to be used. After lunch, she walked her path and sat in the gazebo while he cleaned his gun, worked out, and messed with the vehicles. 

In the late afternoon she was headed for the art room and heard him call as she walked past the bedroom. “Amanda.” 

‘Yeah?” She stopped and took the few steps back to the bedroom. Christian was standing next to the bed with an odd look on his face - she couldn’t tell if he was upset or not. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Then she saw the open drawer of the nightstand on her side of the bed. “Oh.” 

“What’s this?” he asked quietly. 

“Well, that would be a drawer full of sex toys.” She came in and sat on the bed, crossing her arms. She felt her heart speed up and a rush of heat to her face but she did not look away from him, instead raising her head to meet his eye. He ran his hand through his hair and he was the one to look away first. After everything they had done she wasn’t ashamed that he had found her vibrators. It was awkward, but - it was a strange feeling, like she should be embarrassed but couldn’t be bothered.  

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been going through your stuff.”

‘Nah, that’s OK. I just now decided I’m not mad about it.” She uncrossed her arms and poked through the drawer, pulling out a pink contraption. 

“I was looking for, um. . .” 

“Christian, I don’t care.” She held up the toy in her hands. “This rabbit was my favorite for a while. See the little ears? They vibrate.”  

He sat next to her on the bed. “There’s a lot there.” 

“Yep. I like variety. Entertain and distract myself, remember? What is more entertaining and distracting? And these things are really expensive if you have to pay for them.” She picked up another one.  “Oh, I forgot about the seahorse. I liked him.” She held him up and showed Christian how the tail wiggled back and forth.  

“Huh.”  He rubbed his chin and looked away. 

She laughed and rooted through the drawer, pulling out a large thick purple toy about nine inches long. “Ooo - the Purple Passion. That was a good one.” She flipped the switch on and off and it buzzed in her hand for a moment. She looked over at him and grinned, wagging the toy at him. “You look so shocked!”  He shrugged, embarrassed. “Are you really surprised?” 

“I dunno. No. I guess I didn’t really think about it.” 

“You know what’s funny -” She glanced down - “Ooo - a Venus butterfly. Those are nice. Um, what’s funny is I used to have one of these out almost every day, and I haven’t even thought about them in oh, three weeks or so.” She dropped the purple dildo in the drawer and kicked it shut. 

“Three weeks, huh?”

“Yeah. Hasn’t even crossed my mind.” She swung her leg over him on the bed and sat on his lap, facing him, and laced her hands behind his neck. “I wonder why.” She pulled his hair tie out and slid her hands under his hair.  

He put his arms around her back and pulled her up snug against him. “So you just keep me around for the sex, huh?”  

“Of course not.”  She paused. “You get the firewood, too.” 

He tilted his head and grinned, that little half-smile that meant mischief for somebody. She put her hands on either side of his face, cradling him, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. He tried to pull her closer for a kiss but she resisted so he stopped, letting his hands rest on her back and her hands caress his face as she looked at him.  

“God, you are so cute,” she said finally. 

She caught him by surprise and he laughed, a full laugh, head back, his face lit up, the creases around his eyes showing his enjoyment.  “Well, thank you.” 

“I like looking at you.” 

“I like looking at you too,” he said, his grin still broad.  

She grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and waited for him to lift his arms and pulled it off.  “That’s better.” She shifted to untangle her loose sundress and pulled it off and scooted up, pressing against him.  “That’s even better.” She let him pull her close and kissed him, pushing him back on the bed until he was on his back and she was over him.  She kissed him again and then pulled back to look at him. She felt a tightness in her chest and a lump in her throat, and was hit by a wave of sadness as she took in his beautiful blue eyes and warm gaze, just for her.    
She saw his expression shift. “What?” he asked.   

“Do you really think . . . hang on.” They were both laying with their legs hanging off the bed, having gone from sitting on the edge to laying down, and she got up. “Here - turn around.” When they were arranged more comfortably and she was propped next to him, looking down at him, she asked, “Do you really think I don’t want to be with you, and I’m just waiting for a chance to kick you out?” 

“Oh, no, sweetheart.” 

“Have I done anything to make it look like I feel that way?” 

“No.” He shook his head.  

She looked at him, searching his face. I love you, she thought. She barely let herself say it in her head and would never say it out loud.

“I think I irritate you way more than you bother me. I know you were pissed about the mower. But I don’t ever think you would leave me over it.” 

“Darlin’ -” He closed his eyes and she saw the pain etched in his brow. “What I’m afraid will chase you off is whole hell of a lot worse than being a little stubborn.” He ran his hand up to her face. “And anyway, you were scared of losing me, too.”

“I’m scared you’ll get taken by the aliens or dissolved by the acid plague, not that you’ll leave. I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone and I’ll never know why.”

“Well, if I ever get up and go huntin’ early, I’m gonna make sure to leave a note.”

She smiled and lay down to cuddle up next to him, her bare skin pressed against his. “Christian.”  

“Yeah.”  

She closed her eyes and focused on his hand trailing up and down her arm. “Will you make love to me?” 

“Oh, hell, yeah.”  He shifted his arm out from under her and eased her to her back, frowning when he looked down and saw her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.

“Amanda, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed her and she closed her eyes and just took it in, his lips soft and tender, his hand trailing over her body, the warmth of him pressed up against her. In the few weeks they had been together it was starting to seem normal that she wasn’t alone anymore.  She could look up and see him move through the house or yard and not be hit by a jolt of surprise and relief. But when he touched her, she felt like it both chased back the pain and horror of the last few years, and cracked holes in the dike she had built against that pain. If he were gone and she was left with the flood of emotions, but without him to pull her back, she would not survive.    


	15. Chapter 15 - What did you Dream?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if you were dreaming you were making love to Christian Kane, and you woke up and it was real? Also, a fight lesson and sex in a convertible. This is one of Amanda's favorite days so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian Kane, his kisses, convertibles, or small towns in Ohio.

She cuddled up against Christian, still flushed and catching her breath. “That was wonderful.”

He chuckled as put his arms around her, out of breath himself. “You say that every time.” 

“It’s true every time.” 

“You sure are good for my ego.” He felt her nuzzle his neck and closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of her skin against his. 

“I feel so much better,” she said. 

“I’m glad,” he said. “I’m still kinda intrigued by your toys over there. Maybe we’ll get them out sometime.” 

“Nope.” 

“Nope?”

“Well, probably not,” she amended. “Do you remember how I was that first night in Nashville?” 

He grinned. “Oh, yes, ma’am.” He thought about that all the time. 

“Our animal friends in the drawer are a very poor substitute. Why would I go back when I have this?” She reached down and stroked his cock and he felt it respond even though he had just climaxed ten minutes before. 

“Or this?” She picked up his hand and brought it close to her face, kissing each finger and then the palm, sending shivers through him. “Plus, it’s the connection. It’s the touching, and you looking at me. It’s not just getting off.” 

“Yeah.” He pulled back to look at her. The physical intensity of the sex blew him away. He had been with a lot of very hot and passionate women, so he wondered if the fact that she was the first woman he’d been with in almost four years, and the insanity and loneliness she saved him from, just made it seem like this was the hottest sex of his life. 

But now, how he felt - it had been, what, three or four weeks? Back in the real world, before, how long would it take to get to this, just open and not hiding at all from each other? Could you even do it? She had closed her eyes and cuddled into him. He stroked her back until they both drifted off. 

Eventually they wandered down for a late supper of squirrel stew and glazed carrots and settled in the parlor with their whiskey and wine. He noodled through some things he had been working on and played  _ Permanent 99 _ for Amanda, smiling at the joy that lit up her face. He pulled out his notebook and called her over to help him with  _ Wildfire _ . She was right that she didn’t have a great voice, but she could mostly match pitch and he never worked with anyone so eager and willing to take direction. He could almost feel her buzzing as she stood next to him, working through the song. 

She was back on the day bed, under her blankets, watching him. He got lost in his music and lost track of time. When he looked over, her eyes were closed - he didn’t know how late it was, but she had finally drifted to sleep. 

“Amanda?” he said softly. She didn’t stir, and he grinned and shifted chords. There was one song she hadn’t heard yet and he wanted to get it worked out before he played it for her. 

“The tornado comes sweepin’ down again to carry me away.” He shrugged. Not yet, but it would come. 

He walked over and touched her face. He thought about curling up with her there, but she really was sound asleep and the single bed wasn’t really comfortable for both of them for actual sleeping. He covered her up and tucked her in and went off to bed.

Christian was dreaming that he was on the  _ Leverage _ set. In the next scene he was supposed to seduce the client. Or the mark? He wasn’t quite sure, but it was all worked out. He hit his mark, and Gina had her line which was designed to get Beth out of there, because Parker would say something to mess it up. 

Eliot had threatened Hardison if he recorded the seduction; he promised not to but intended to anyway. But Christian knew the recording would get messed up, and Hardison would be mad later, not that it mattered. He wasn’t quite sure if he was Christian or Eliot, but either way he knew what to do next. Sophie and Parker were gone and Hardison stormed out, and the client was Amanda, and they were alone except for the film crew and lighting crew and Dean and the production assistants, and Ryan standing behind the director, watching silently.   

The daybed from the parlor was right in the middle of Nate’s apartment, with the blue striped comforter. She was standing next to the daybed, wearing the dress from Target and he knew wearing nothing underneath. This was supposed to be slow and sweet, like the Studio Job. These were almost more fun than the more energetic love scenes like in The Two Horse Job because those were a lot more choreographed. He walked over to her and stood looking at her, letting the camera take it in, the small smile on his face and how she looked at him, her eyes shining, her lips barely parted. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” he said, in his low, growling Eliot voice (she was the client, then - unless this was part of the con?) Somehow, in the dream, he knew that keeping her safe would be hard to do, maybe impossible. He would worry about that later - he had this scene to get through first. He knew how to make a staged kiss look good. He stepped closer and her breath caught and her cheeks blushed pink - she was good. Very convincing. 

He lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers, no tongue and taking his time, lots of moving against her, sucking on her lip, making sure his hand stayed out of the way of the camera when he reached up to cradle her face, pulling back to search her eyes and then moving back in just a little faster for another kiss as if he couldn’t help himself. 

“This is nice,” she said, right on cue. She was kissing him back, following his lead, her mouth soft on his, and he knew that this was going to be a good take. No one called cut, though, so he kept kissing her, raising his head again to look at her and take her in, letting his gaze sharpen just a little. 

He let his tongue rest on his lip before pulling her close with a groan this time, his mouth more open, but angled for the camera and still soft and searching, because he knew that looked good too. This felt right - this was one of those scenes that would be captured and watched over and over, like the one in  _ Her Minor Thing. _

His parents were there and started applauding, but Ryan was still silent. He and Amanda were laying on the bed, now - he didn’t remember laying down, but they would go back and film that part later. The script had changed - it was going to be a lot more than kissing. Her dress was gone, as were his clothes. The room was dark; the film crew had gone home, but they had to finish the scene. His body was against hers, his hand over her breast and down to her hip, and he was still kissing her slow and sweet as if her legs weren’t spread under him, and his body wasn’t shifting over top of her, as if he wasn’t feeling her hot and wet against his cock. 

“I like this,” she said, breathless, and he was moving in her and she was warm and sweet and soft. He could hear her moans and pants and the dark studio was turning into a bedroom. It swam into focus and he was in the bedroom at Laurel Court, moving on a warm, moaning body under him. 

“Amanda?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep. 

“Yeah,” said her soft voice. He lifted his head to see her face in the moonlight from the bedroom window. “This is wonderful.” 

He was making love to Amanda, in the bedroom at Laurel Court. He felt her arms around his neck as he rested his head on her and felt her kisses on him. 

“I was dreaming,” he said. He closed his eyes and concentrated on her warm skin against him, the feeling of sliding in and out of her, tight but taking him easily. She was flushed and moaning and moving under him; he wondered how long they had been at it. He thought of her on the set of  _ Leverage _ , taking her there, in front of everyone, how even in his dream she was ready for anything. 

She picked up on his change of tempo and was wrapped around him now, her legs up, pulling him close, burying her face in his neck. She had told him over and over that this was her favorite part, when he came inside her, and he liked the idea of leaving a part of himself in her as he shuddered and climaxed. It wasn’t an explosion, it was just a - a completion, a consummation, delightful and fulfilling and right. She held on to him for a long moment before letting him slide over, and her look for him was just as sweet and awed and sated as if this had been one of their wildest adventures. No matter what he had to give her, it was just right. 

“Mmm.” She nuzzled against his neck, curled up next to him. “That was a nice surprise.”  Surprise? he thought. What the fuck did I do now?  

“What happened?” he asked, still groggy and sorting out the dream from reality. “You were downstairs . . .”

“I guess I fell asleep while you were playing. I woke up and came up to bed. I cuddled up to you because I was cold, and you started kissing on me.” She grinned and squeezed his arm close. “It was so sweet. I was half asleep and I just felt like I was floating.”

“I was dreaming,” he said again. He was coming after her in his sleep, now? At least he had been gentle.

“What did you dream?” she asked. He described the dream, as best he could. Some parts were starting to slip away, but he remembered the staged kisses he was so good at turning into more. 

“That sounds like fun.” 

“It was great.” He smiled, his eyes distant. “My parents were there. I don’t remember dreams very often. It was good to see everyone.”  

“I’m glad.” She hugged his arm again, pressing it against her breasts. “That was just so sweet. I loved it.” He pulled her close, still trying to sort out dream from reality, and they drifted off. 

 

 

Amanda awoke first, and Christian opened his eyes to her sweet smile. “Hi, handsome.”  When she saw he was awake she slid up next to him. “That was so wonderful yesterday, both times. I feel so taken care of.”  

“Mmmm.” He stretched and put his arm around her. “I’m glad I woke up for the second one. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.”  

“I loved it.”  

He turned toward her and grinned. “I guess so. You’ve said that about five times.”  

“I don’t know - it’s always good, you know that, but it was so sweet.” 

“So the best sex is when I’m asleep?” 

“Maybe it was because I was half asleep, too,” she said. “It was kind of otherworldly.” He chuckled and pulled her close.    

 

They eventually got up and started their day, and after a morning of their usual projects Amanda wandered over to the carriage house. Christian had found a red Mustang convertible at some point and brought it back to Laurel Court and was tinkering under the hood. 

“Hey, you.”  

“Hey.” He stepped back from the car and wiped his hands. 

“This is neat.” She ran her hand along the car. “Where did you get it?” 

“I’ve been scouting around when I’m hunting. It was a couple blocks that way.” He gestured vaguely. He came over and wrapped her up in a hug. “How was your morning?” 

“Good. I was playing with clay, and went through some cookbooks.” She reached up to tug on his ponytail holder.

He pulled his head back a little. “Naw, leave it, hon. I’m just gonna have to put it right back up.” 

“All right.” She looked up at him with a broad grin. 

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “What?” 

“You actually told me no about something! That’s crazy!” 

“What?”   

She couldn’t stop chuckling. “What is the world coming to?” She squeezed him tight. 

“I’ve told you no before,” he said.  

“Nope, don’t think you have. Good for you, though.” 

He just shook his head and leaned back against the car, pulling her against him. She cuddled against him and he glanced down at her, then pulled back to see her expression again. “Now what?” he asked, sounding amused. 

“Now that I can ask you for things, you might be sorry.” 

“Oh, really? I doubt it.” He grinned. “Are you about to ask for something?”

“Maybe.” She put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, calmed as always by the steady beat. 

“Ask then.” She turned her head into his shirt. “Amanda.”  She could hear the beginning of frustration in his voice. “Come on.” 

“Ok.” She took a breath.  “Would you teach me how to fight?”

He laughed. “You always surprise me. Why?” 

“It looks like fun. It would be something physical, I’d get to do some moving around.” She hesitated. “And . . . I just would like to know how to protect myself.  Not from you,” she added hastily at his look and raised eyebrow. “But if we meet someone else. That is what I was most afraid of, before we met in Nashville. If we’re together I’m OK, but I could be really vulnerable with some other guy.” 

“Why do you say ‘if we’re together?’ Goddammit, I am not going anywhere.” 

“Ok.”  

He shook his head. “Fine. What kind of fighting?” 

“Well, to protect myself. If someone grabbed me, what to do.  And maybe,” she looked up, excited, “if it’s different, like, stage fighting? The Two Crew job - your fight with the Israeli hitter. That was hot.”  

“Alright, tiger, we’ll see. Have you ever been in a fight before?” He let her go and stepped back away from the car, shifting his stance, leaning his weight forward, balancing on the balls of his feet.  She bit her lip and could feel her excitement rising. 

“I taught at a school for kids with behavior issues for a while, and we got two weeks of training on how to defend ourselves and restrain the kids safely,” she said. “It wasn’t worth much, though, because I got the shit beat out of me.”

He stopped moving and planted his feet, tilting his head. “Wait - what?”  

“I had third and fourth graders who had been kicked out of regular school. They would just go off and attack. It took three adults to take one down, but they could do some damage in the meantime.” 

“Fourth grade - so what, like ten years old?” he asked. 

“Yep. Nine and ten.”  

He shook his head. “They would physically attack? Why?” 

“No reason, or any reason. They got frustrated with the work or I told them to sit down or whatever. They would punch or kick; we always had bruises. I got my shirt ripped one time.”

“That’s crazy. What happened?”  

She shrugged. “They got points and couldn’t shop in the toy store for the week. We never used straps or physical restraints or anything. Just had to physically get them under control if they were going to hurt someone. I lasted a year. I didn’t go back though.” She grinned. “They had a lot of teachers leave for lunch on their first day and never come back. It was rough.”  

“Shit, it sounds like it.” 

“It was hard for me because I wasn’t sure it was doing any good. Some of the kids . . .” she stopped. “That was a different life.  I don’t need to keep talking about it.”  

“I’d like to hear sometime.” 

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I dunno.  Anyway, will you teach me?” 

“Alright.” He cracked his knuckles and got into a balanced stance again. “So, you need to know how to subdue vicious ten year olds. I think we can do that.”  He lowered his head and looked at her, his face serious. 

“Now, I’m gonna come at you - you do whatever you do. We’ll see where to start.”  He started toward her and she stepped back into the protective stance she had been taught - feet about shoulder width, one foot a little back, balanced on both feet, hands up, palms out, about waist high. He raised his eyebrow and nodded in approval. He took another step and grabbed her by the wrist. Heart pounding, without thinking, she turned her thumb upwards, grabbed her fist with her other hand and pivoted it up and out of his grasp and then stepped back. 

“Nice.  They taught you that in the training?”   

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “That was a long time ago. I can’t believe some of it stuck.”   

“Muscle memory. It’ll all come back.” He grinned. “Good job. What else you got?”  

She showed him everything she remembered - how to deflect a hit and a kick, loosen a bite, separate kids who were fighting, and how to physically restrain and get safely on the floor children who were out of control.  

“OK, here’s the problem with all that,” he said seriously. “The whole point was to keep from hurting the attacker. If someone other than a ten year old is coming at you, you want to fuck them up. They need to go down, and not get back up. All right?”

“Yes.” 

“If someone attacks you, you need to shift the dynamic. You become the aggressor.”

“OK.” She stood braced, heart pounding. 

He stopped and looked at her with a little half-grin. “You OK?” 

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “This is exciting. I’m gonna feel so much better if I know I can take care of myself. I know there’s no point anymore, but I want to learn anyway. I’ve never hit anyone in my life, though.”  

“Ok, tiger.  Let’s see . . .” He stopped and rubbed his jaw. “Shit. I don’t know quite what to prepare you for. We don’t know if there is anyone else, or what we’ll find . . . Ok, here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll teach you as if it was before, all right? That should leave you ready for anything.” 

“All right.”  She was tickled and a little intimidated about how seriously he was taking this. It was a side she hadn’t seen before, and it was all Eliot. She wanted to do well for her own reasons, but also realized she was nervous because she didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Here’s what you need to know,” he said. She hid a grin - even his voice had lowered closer to the Eliot register and timbre, low and rough. “Anyone who attacks you is a fucking coward. You show some resistance, they’ll run.  Now if you stick with it, you’ll take that fucker down, but we’ll start with you learning your strength and how to have enough resistance to get away.” He lowered his head and looked at her. “OK?” 

“Yes, sir.”  

He taught her some simple hits and she practiced using a palm to break a nose and the side of her hand to chop a neck. He showed her how to come in fast and turn her body for more force, standing behind her and guiding her through so she could feel the twist at the end. 

“That’s all the power, and keeps you from getting hurt,” he said. “The hard part is getting over the natural impulse to not hurt people.”  His grin was challenging. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll get there.” 

He had her practice on him - he would come at her and she would do as he had shown her, going through the motion but not landing. 

“Nice,” he said. “You’re picking this up quick.” 

“I’m very motivated, and I take coaching well,” she said, a little out of breath. 

“We gotta get a martial arts dummy. You need to learn by following through, not always pulling back, or that’s what you’ll do in a real fight.” He stopped and turned to her.  “If you want to keep going.”

“Oh, absolutely. That was amazing. I can’t wait.” 

His broad grin lit up his face and she could see every laugh line around his eyes. “That’s my girl!” He scooped her up for a big hug and she grabbed on to him, just aware again of his warmth and touch and strength up against her.  

Her body was still coursing with adrenaline from the fight lesson and she grabbed his face and kissed him hard, going after him until he had to take a step back. He swung her around against the car and she moaned as she felt him press against her. She was trying to get her hands into his hair and tangling with his tongue, and he had to brace himself to keep her from pushing him back. 

He pulled back to look at her, eyes glittering, but she grabbed his shirt and pulled him down for more kisses, aggressive and devouring. She started pulling at his shirt, not releasing his mouth, and he finally broke the kiss to pull his shirt off then slid his hands on her skin and up her body, taking her shirt as well.  

“Where?” she gasped as he leaned down to capture her nipple with his mouth and then kiss her neck. They were in the middle of the wide expanse of driveway between the house and the garage. “Let’s go over to the grass.”  

He was breathing hard when he pulled back to look at her. “Naw, we got this.” He picked her up and put her in the back seat of the convertible, stripping off his pants and then jumping over the door after her.

She grabbed him and pulled him close, kissing him again. “How do you have sex in a convertible? Because I want it NOW.” 

“You got it, baby. You know I can’t tell you no.”  He started to disentangle himself. “Hold on.” He climbed out and ran around to the driver’s side, sliding the seat all the way up and tilting it forward as far as it would go.  

“You don’t run around naked enough,” she called. “Just saying. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Once or twice.”  He was back in the car in the backseat and pulled her over to sit on his lap, facing him. She started to maneuver to slide down on him, hard and ready, but he shifted her a bit so his cock rested up against her instead. 

“Hold on, tiger,” he said against her neck. “Let’s enjoy this a minute.” 

She groaned and pushed up against him and grabbed his head, thrusting her tongue, sucking on him, and once biting his lip hard enough for him to jump. He was trying to return her kisses, his hands on her breasts, and grabbing her ass while she ground against him. 

“Holy fuck,” he groaned. She was wet moving against him, thrusting her breasts into his hands, overwhelming him with commanding kisses. 

“Will you fuck me  _ now _ ?” she demanded.  

He put his hands on her waist and let her lift up and then down on him, and they both groaned as he filled her up. She leaned forward and put her arms around him and he had his hands on her hips, holding her up just enough so he could move into her as she thrust down on him. She groaned every time he slid into her and started moving faster and faster until he could no longer hold her.  

He leaned back against the seat with his hands on her hips, teeth gritted and panting with her and watching every move as she rode him hard, her face wild, her body flushed, her breasts moving and her nipples erect.  She started coming on him, with a whimpering screaming cry and convulsing around him and he just hung on until she collapsed on him, her body hot and quivering.  

“Can we keep going?” he asked, his voice rough. 

“Oh God yes.” That alone almost had him come. He leaned her back against the front seat and that gave him enough space to move against her, and the feel of her so hot and wet and still so tight, and the thought of how she had been completely insatiable, coming at him like a wildcat, and he was complete, filling her up the way they both liked, and she was moaning and flushing again. 

She leaned forward and collapsed on him and he just held her as they both caught their breath and the cool breeze dried their skin. 

“Oh my God,” she finally said against his shoulder. He rested his head on her, feeling her still wrapped around him, enjoying the weight of her on him. He didn’t want to say anything, he just wanted to hold her forever.  He felt completely drained but completely alive. Finally she moved off, sitting next to him and stretching out her legs. She turned to look at him, smiling. “Wow. I loved that.” 

“Yeah.” It was not easy to cuddle in the back seat of the Mustang, and he realized he missed being able to press up against her and feel her skin against him after. He reached over and took her hand, twining his fingers in hers, as he looked up and met her gaze. “Wow. You were a wildcat.”

“Did you like it?” 

He chuckled and reached up to touch her face. “You know damn well I did.” 

“I like to hear it.” 

He turned to her, holding her gaze, smiling a little, cradling her face in his hand. He tried not to exaggerate his accent but pitched his voice just a little lower. 

“Amanda,” he said softly, “I loved it. For you to come at me like that -” he leaned toward her, his eyes never leaving her face. “That was fucking amazing. I have never felt anything like that.” That was true - he had never done exactly that, and with her everything seemed to be heightened and more intense than it would have been before. 

Her breath was catching and her eyes wide as he leaned in for a slow, sweet kiss. 

“Wow,” she said, breathless. He smiled and leaned back, pulling her back against him. She took another deep breath and he felt her relax, her back up against his chest, his arm around the front of her shoulders where she could lower her head to kiss him or run her fingers up and down his arm. 

His mind ran over it again, as he tended to do. Her asking for the fight lesson, her intensity when she came at him like a wildcat, demanding to be fucked. He grinned when he ran his tongue over his lip where she had nipped him. God, that was hot, her out of control like that, just wanting him so bad.

She finally started looking around for her clothes, laughing when she found her shirt on one side of the car and her shorts and panties on the driveway on the other side. 

“I don’t even remember these coming off. I’m gonna go rinse off - wanna join me?” He followed her to the hot tub, and when she just pulled off the cover and climbed in, gasping a little at the cool water, he followed her. She scooted over and cuddled up against him when he sat down. “I loved that.”

He smiled, holding her close. “As much as the dream sex?” 

“Mmm.” She rested against him. “It’s hard to say.  I liked them both a lot.” He shifted to give her space when she started kissing on his neck. “There’s been a lot of sex the last day or so, so I’m just generally pretty happy right now.”   

He could feel the grin on his face and had to close his eyes a moment. “Me too, sweetheart,” he said. 

They cuddled in the pool until they were both chilled before they got out. Christian made lunch while Amanda warmed up under a pile of blankets on a lounge chair in the cook shack, watching him. After lunch he came over to give her a kiss.  

“I like your new car a lot,” she said.  

“Me too. I gotta run it up to the gas station, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He looked at her, cradling her face, his face serious but soft. “I liked that, baby.” His voice was soft but with a low growl.  

“Me too. I couldn’t get enough of you.” 

“I like it.”  

She watched through the storm windows as he got several gas cans out of the garage, put them in the trunk and then drove off in the red convertible. How weird, she thought, to see him drive off on errands just like it’s normal. She was half-heartedly cleaning up the lunch dishes when she heard a car honking. 

“Amanda!” Christian called. 

She went to the door - he was standing next to the convertible, waving. “What?” 

“Come on, let’s go for a drive!” 

“Let me get shoes!” She grabbed a pair of sandals and a jacket and ran out to where he was holding the car door for her. “Where are we going?”

“I dunno. We’ll see when we get there.”  He roared out of the driveway, tires squealing. “All right, where is the highway?” 

She gave him directions to get to I-75. “This is our first date.” 

He laughed and reached over and squeezed her hand. “What the hell are you talking about? I took you to Home Depot, didn’t I?” As they got on the expressway her hair was whipping in her face and she was trying vainly to keep it back. He glanced over and grinned, and then pulled a ponytail holder out of his pocket and handed it to her. 

“Oh, wow. That is prepared.” She put her hair up, put on her seatbelt, and enjoyed the ride. As soon as they were around a curve and he could see the freeway open and clear ahead of them he opened it up, going faster and faster.  She looked over at him - he had both hands on the wheel, his face intent, some hair had come loose and was whipping around his face, and the speedometer said 120 miles an hour. 

He glanced at her for a split second, a wide fierce grin on his face. She had never gone that fast in a car in her life. When they got to a curve and couldn’t see as far ahead he slowed down, but within a few minutes they were out of town and were headed up the clear, flat, straight highway towards Dayton and for a couple minutes he had it close to 140.  

The landscape went by in an undistinguished blur, the wind was a cyclone around her, and she could feel the vibration and shaking of the car through every part of her. The roar of the wind and the engine overwhelmed everything else.  It all started easing up, and she looked down to see the speedometer back down at 120, then 100.  Then they were back to a normal speed and he got off at the Middletown exit, pulling to a smooth stop in the middle off the off-ramp. 

He turned to her with a wide grin but before he could speak she grabbed his arm. “That was amazing! What a rush. I’ve never been that fast in my life.” 

“You weren’t scared?” he asked. 

“It was exhilarating! I couldn’t even think.” She grinned at him. “No, I wasn’t scared. You’re the man who doesn’t even want me to mow the lawn, I think I’m safe with you.” 

She saw that little tilt to his head, the set to his jaw, and his eyes narrow just a bit for a split second before he had his hand on the back of her head, pulling her in for a hard kiss, but she met him half way and was half climbing over the console to get at him, pulling him close for a kiss, sliding her hand down between his legs. She felt as though she were on fire. 

“Fuck. You are a wildcat today,” he groaned when she slid down to kiss on his neck.  

“It was just such a rush. I feel really alive.” She kissed him again. 

He cradled her head, his hands warm on her face, his blue eyes intense. “You really up for more?” 

She caught her breath at just the thought of his hands on her, him in her again. “Oh, yeah. You should feel how wet I am right now.” 

“You got it. Let’s find a bed this time.” She climbed back over to her seat and he started the car, heading toward the Red Roof Inn she pointed out. “Where are we?”   

“Middletown,” she said.

He shook his head and grinned. “Seriously? Middletown?” 

“Nothing more middle American than Middletown, Ohio, is there?” 

He pulled right up to one of the motel rooms off the parking lot. “If I was Eliot I’d just knock it down, but doors don’t really collapse - hang on.” He examined the door. “Huh. Maybe I can. What the hell kind of cheap hotel -” She stepped back and watched, heart pounding.  

He looked it over again, tried the knob, then stood sideways and reached up with his leg and tapped the wooden door with his foot, right below the knob. Then he took a deep breath and kicked, hard, in the same spot. The door creaked. He nodded and did it one more time and there was a crack and the door popped open. 

“Holy shit. That was amazing.” She was breathless. “I could be in the middle of  _ Leverage _ . A high speed car chase and then kicking the door in.”  He grinned and followed her into the room. It was dark and musty and he went to pull open the drapes, open the window and block the door open with a chair. By the time he turned around, she had already pulled the dusty covers back off of one of the beds and stripped off her clothes and came at him. “That was so hot.” 

Kissing her, he backed her up until they both tumbled onto the bed.  She came after him again, trying to roll back over so she was on top, but he put an arm and leg over her, pinning her while he kissed on her neck. 

“You said I should feel how wet you are,” he growled against her skin and ran his hand down her body, teasing between her legs, leaning down and letting his teeth graze her nipple as he touched her, feeling how wet and hot she was. 

“Fuck,” he murmured against her breast. “I will never get used to that.” She moaned and arched her back up against him and thrusting her hips against his hand as he explored her, slipping his finger inside, lightly teasing against her clit. She moaned when he pulled his hand away and he pulled back from her breast and waited until she opened her eyes and looked at him. 

“I couldn’t believe it when you let me do this the other day,” he said in a husky voice and raised his hand to her face. She took his hand and pulled his fingers into her mouth, tasting her juices on him. He groaned as she lapped at him, sucking his fingers, twirling and teasing with her tongue.  

She finally released him. “I like it. I don’t know why. I’ve never done it before.” He growled and kissed her, his tongue in her, tasting, taking over. One hand was cradling her head, the other ranging over her body. She moaned when he moved to her throat, sucking and kissing and driving her crazy. 

“Why are you wearing clothes?” she groaned, pulling at his shirt.

“Because I don’t want to stop this long enough to get them off.” While he kissed on her neck and breasts and captured her mouth and his hands explored her body, she pulled up on his shirt, getting it halfway up and his shorts partway down. 

“Christian!” she cried in frustration, and, grinning, he let go of her and sat up long enough to get rid of his clothes and was back on her. 

“Oh, that’s better.” She wrapped her arms around him, kissing on his neck and chest. His hand was back at her pussy, teasing, and she was already so hot she was almost frantic.

“Christian, now, now,” she cried, and tried to pull him over on her, but then groaned and dug her fingers into his shoulders as he slipped a finger into her, then two, then up to tease her clitty. 

“Come for me,” he growled low and rough and she did, screaming as she bucked against him, flushed and sweating, lost in her own world.   

 

He held her through the aftershocks, his heart pounding to match hers, and it seemed to take an eternity for her body to calm. Finally they were cuddled up together on the bed, cooling in the breeze from the open doorway. She was on her back, her arms over her head, and he was on his side next to her, his arm wrapped around her waist. 

“That looked like a good one,” he said, smiling.

“Oh my God.” She turned her head to look at him.  “I still can’t believe what you do to me.” 

“And I still can’t believe how ready you are all the fucking time.” 

She stroked her fingers up and down his arm across her waist. “This feels so illicit, driving out of town to a hotel. On our first date,” she added. 

“Next you’re gonna tell me you don’t usually do that on a first date.” 

“I’ve only had a couple, with very proper Catholic boys. I was lucky to get a kiss.”

“I’ll give you a kiss.” He got up on his arm and leaned in for a kiss, sweet, slow, exploring, soft.  He returned her smile and cuddled back down next to her. 

“This was an amazing day. I’m still buzzing. I can’t believe it.” She picked up his hand and kissed his palm, then rested his arm on her chest, holding him close. 

“Me neither. What in the hell got into you today? Not that I mind,” he added quickly.

“Just the rush of it. After the fight lesson, and the ride - I just felt so alive.” She paused. “And there’s something else.” 

“Yeah?” He pulled back to look at her. 

“I keep thinking of what you said yesterday. That if I hold myself back from you, it won’t make it easier if you disappear. I didn’t think I was, but - something’s different.” 

“Aw, baby.” He pulled her close and she was wrapped up in his arms, their bodies pressed together, her face against the soft skin of his neck, and he was trembling. “Darlin’, I’m glad. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. 

He was scared to death. Even though he pushed her about dumb shit like the firewood or loading landscape timbers, she was so open to him, giving everything and accepting everything, that it scared him. And now she would be more open?  How would he keep her safe? 

It was what he wanted - at every hint of her holding back he felt compelled to break through the wall. But she was breaking through his walls too, and he really did have to hold back, or it wasn’t safe. 

As he rolled to his back the fading light through the window caught his attention. “It’s getting late. How long have we been here?”

“Who cares?” She stretched and turned over, laying her hand on his chest. “We could stay up here tonight.”  

“What about the pups?” 

“They’re fine for a day or so. They can get in and out the dog door to the porch, and they have beds and plenty of food.” 

“Ok. You don’t have your backpack, though.” 

“We’ll rough it.” She rolled out of bed and picked up her wet panties. “We don’t have anything, do we? I guess we’ll go shopping first.”  She dropped them and came back to bed, climbing over until she was stretched out on top of Christian and looking down at him. “Hey,” she said.   

“Hey.” He smiled up at her, brushing her hair back.  He could see the sheen on her skin, feel the warmth and weight of her as she lay on him, and smell just a hint of the peaches or whatever she bathed with, but mostly smell her, her body and sweat and sex. She leaned in for a kiss, not frantic, now, just sweet and thorough, and he returned it, following her lead. 

“I love being with you,” she whispered. 

He smiled. “Me too.” 

She looked so serious. “It breaks my heart that you think it’s just a matter of time until I leave.” 

His heart ached as if a hand was squeezing it. “No, I don’t.”

“Would you walk away because I pissed you off?” 

“No, of course not.”  

“Why do you think I would?”

“No, it’s not that,” he protested.  

“You asked me to trust you, and I do. I wish you trusted me too.” 

He just pulled her close and held her tight, feeling her cling to him. Because it was nothing to do with her - it was him, and there was nothing she could do about that.  He knew it wouldn’t be a small thing that would end this and leave him alone again. She had already stayed through - not only stayed, but barely cared about - situations that other women had left him for.  The few times in his life he had truly put aside any role and opened himself up, he had been hurt.  Amanda was all he had and he couldn’t chance it. 


	16. Chapter 16 - Can't Get Out of a Massage That Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finish the road trip. What a great couple of days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian Kane, or massages, or how he looks doing squats with weights shirtless.

Chapter 16

Dusk was falling by the time they left the hotel. The first stop was the Kroger grocery store. They made their way to the small hardware and car section to find what flashlights they could so they could finish their errands in the dark buildings.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been out this unprepared. This is fun!” Amanda said.

“Fun?” He fumbled around and finally got some batteries in one of the flashlights.

“Sure. It’s an adventure!”

Her highest priority was clothes - she had refused to put the panties back on and her shirt and shorts were sweaty. She agreed, though, that they could get some toothbrushes, jugs of water and dinner supplies while they were there at the grocery. She was tickled when Christian gathered up the supplies to re-create the white bean and tuna salad she had made their third day together at Trader Joe’s, along with breakfast, wine and some snacks, and she grabbed all they had of her favorite protein bars.

The Kroger shared a parking lot with the Middletown Mall, so next was Macy’s department store for clothes for both of them and Sears for some lanterns in the camping department.

“Wait,” Christian said. “Where can we get some lotion? And candles?”

“Oooh - how come?” she asked.

He grinned. “Cause I said so, nosy.” They found a mall directory and by the light of the lanterns made their way to a Bath and Body Works.

“Well, shit,” he said as he held up the lantern and surveyed the hundreds of bottles of lotions and bath gels. “Can you pick out some you like?”

She was grinning like a little kid and biting her lip to keep from asking again. “Sure.” She grabbed a shopping basket and started loading it up.

“Jasmine!” he called. “You like jasmine, right?”

“Yes.” He came over and dropped a jasmine lotion in her basket, grinning at her over the eight bottles already there.

“How many candles?” she asked.

“I dunno,” he said. “Enough for the room tonight.”

“Here, you have to help with these,” she said. “They’re heavy.” They found a mall stroller to help haul everything out to the car. “We’re all set. Now, where do you want to stay?” Besides Red Roof Inn, there were three other hotels in sight. They ended up at the Drury Inn, and although the doors were a little sturdier he got one open.

“I had no idea I’d get so turned on watching someone break in a door,” Amanda said as she backed him up to the wall for some kisses.

Christian put together their dinner while she grabbed her bath stuff and some water and showered and dressed. After they had eaten, Christian had cleaned up, and they had wandered the hotel a bit, Christian raided a linen closet and got a pile of blankets on the way back to their room, and Amanda watched as he lit all the candles and set them up around the room.

“Now,” he said, stepping close and taking her hand, “what I want tonight is to give you a massage.”

“I would love that. What an amazing day.” She stepped into his arms and looked up at him in the candlelight.

His blue eyes were intense, his smile warm and broad. His hair was down in waves around his face, and he had about three days’ worth of stubble. She took in the laugh lines around his eyes and thought of how soft those full lips were. His hands were warm on her back, his arms firm around her.

“It’s almost like normal, sometimes,” she said, “when we’re just both doing stuff back at the Court, but when I stop a second - I still cannot believe I am here with you.”

He leaned down and kissed her, soft and thorough, his tongue teasing against hers, sucking on her lip, so much sensation - it went on and on and she could feel the heat starting to build in her belly.

The sundress she had grabbed had buttons up the front and while he was kissing her, his hand cradling her head, with his other hand he released the top button, then the second. By the time the fourth button was undone and his fingers were brushing the skin between her breasts while he worked on the next, her heart was pounding and she was gasping against his mouth. Her breath caught and her fingers tangled in his hair while she pulled him closer, her kisses becoming more urgent.

He kissed down her neck, scooting the loose neckline out of the way to kiss her sensitive spot and she moaned and her head went back and she was pushing against him. He pulled back to look at her, cradling her face again, smiling.

“Really?” His voice was low and on the edge of laughter.

“I . . . can’t help it when you touch me,” she gasped.

His smile was just delighted and warm, not the mischievous half-grin with the little head tilt and jaw set that meant she was in some kind of fun trouble.

The dress could have slipped off by then but he kept working down the buttons one at a time, letting his hands caress her skin, once running his finger lightly up from the eighth button, between her breasts, up to caress her lips with his thumb. Her breath was catching over and over until she was almost hyperventilating, she was quivering and her knees were weak by the time he finally slipped the dress off her shoulders. He let it slide to the ground, leaving her nude except for a pair of lace panties.

When he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up against him, she moaned and clung to him, letting her knees give way.

“Oh my God, Amanda.” His voice was low and rough against her neck. He took a step and lowered her to the bed, then pulled off his clothes and lay back down with her. “I intended to give you a massage and get you relaxed, not get you worked up again.”

“I know. You’re just so sexy, you can’t help it.” She tugged on his shoulder and he slid her panties out of the way and rolled over on her, braced up on his elbows, and she put her arms up around his neck.

“Three times in one day?” He nuzzled her neck and kissed again on the spot that drove her crazy.

“Please?”

He kept kissing until she was gasping and trying to thrust against his weight. He pulled back to look at her and this time it was the naughty grin, his eyebrow up just a bit, that little head tilt, that look in his eye.

“You know I never tell you no.” He didn’t take his eyes off of her face as he shifted to slide his legs between hers, easing her open, moving on her, but right where she could feel how hard and hot he was against her, he stopped again and touched her face, breathing hard as he watched her moan and squirm under him.

“No, please, don’t tease - Christian, please . . .” He was moving again and sliding into her and she felt it through her whole body as he filled her up, again and again. His hands on her shoulders, his head on her, his moans as he felt her open for him, the sweat on his skin as she buried her head in his neck, her whole world was filled with him.

Usually she had her legs up and around him, pulling him into her, but she lay open and soft, melting into him, the bed, the world. Her arms were around his back, holding him as close as he could be.

“Yes, yes,” she whispered, kissing anywhere she could reach. “I love . . . I love this.”

It shifted, he was close, moving faster, gasping against her skin.

“Oh God, baby,” he groaned and he was coming, filling her up, and she found her legs around him, just holding on and she closed her eyes and just felt it to her core. It seemed to go on forever, then one last shudder and he was gasping and his weight was on her and he was slick with sweat. She untangled her legs but kept her arms around him, and he didn’t try to slide off right away this time, just rested in her arms, catching his breath.

“That was wonderful,” she whispered against him and he drew another ragged breath. She let him shift sideways just a little, not off of her but enough so he didn’t have to hold himself up so she could breathe, and she felt him relax against her. She reached up and stroked his face, his hair, anything she could reach.

“Oh my God, baby,” she murmured. He didn’t pull back to look at her right away like he usually did and she just cradled him against her, feeling his breathing slow and his skin cool.

She didn’t know how long it was, she might have dozed, before he finally moved. He rolled to his side and pulled her up with him. She tucked her arm under the pillow and just took him in. He didn’t say anything but his eyes searched her face, his face soft but serious. She just smiled and reached up to touch him, to cradle his cheek and brush his hair back.

“Don’t you dare ask if I liked it,” he finally said, his voice quiet and husky.

She laughed. “Wasn’t gonna.” She moved a little closer, not looking away from his gaze. “I loved it, though.” She sighed, smiling. “What is that, four - no, five times in two days? I’m a happy woman right now.”

He just looked at her with a small smile and shook his head. “I had forgot from that day we made the nest in front of the fire that it turns you on to be undressed like that.” He looked around for a blanket and pulled it up over them and cuddled her up next to him. “I loved it too,” he said softly against her hair.

“Out of the last couple days, I think this one was my favorite,” she said.

He chuckled. “Really? Out of the crazy shit we’ve done, this was your favorite? Better than the dream, even? Or the convertible?”

“Yeah. I just feel really close to you right now.”

She felt him grow very still against her. She waited a moment and was just about to pull back and look up and see what was going on when he pulled her closer and she was wrapped up as close as she could be to him.

“I’m glad.” It was quiet and low, and she thought she heard a catch in his voice. “Me, too.”

 

Christian woke early again - it was barely light outside the hotel room window.

What the hell, he thought. Before, he never woke up early on his own, only if he had to for an early call for a shoot, and then it was a struggle. He was stiff and sweaty from Amanda being wrapped up in his arms all night. He eased his arm out from under her, pumped his fist to work out the pins and needles, and then cuddled up against her back, sliding an arm around her waist and tucking the other under the pillow.  

He couldn’t begin to sort out how he felt about the last few days. ‘I feel really close to you right now,’ she had said. The sex she liked best wasn’t the screaming orgasm or riding him hard in the convertible - it was just being there for him, taking what he had to give. It was just beginning to hit him that maybe he wouldn’t be alone again someday soon. He had thought that she didn’t really know him and once she did, she was gone.

But here she was . . . he scooped her hair aside, kissed her neck and let his head rest on her. She had seen his anger, his passion - his sex drive sure wasn’t going to scare her off. Three times yesterday. Not that he couldn’t keep up, but - wow.

He didn’t see how they would ever end up in the cold war he hated, either, afraid to move or say a word because it would be the wrong thing and he didn’t know why, hurting each other no matter what they did. She just announced what was up, like the weather. ‘That hurt me before.’ ‘I won’t put up with that shit.’ And not at the end, after the damage had been done and all that was left was seeing how long to hold on, but when he still had a chance to do something about it.

He felt a shiver down his back when he wondered what her not holding back would look like. A few women he had been with had needed more than he could give, and it got to the point where he was glad he had a gig to fly to out of town to get some space. He thought of those last painful months with Linda in L.A. Now what? No where to fly off to now if it got to be too much.

He closed his eyes and grit his teeth. You asshole, he thought. As soon as you get what you want, you start thinking of getting away?

Amanda started stirring. He kissed her neck lightly and could feel her warm and sticky with sweat against him. She smelled of her body and sex, and tasted of salt. Even barely awake, she was scooting back, pressing against him, wanting more contact. The first thing she’ll say to me, he thought, is how wonderful that was last night.

If you run from this, you jackass - I just won’t, he thought to himself. I wouldn’t survive, and I won’t hurt her like that.

“Hey, beautiful.” He kissed her neck, trailing more kisses down her shoulder.

“Hi. Wow. I slept so well last night.” She turned over toward him.

“That’s good.”

“I loved that last night.”

He chuckled and shook his head a little as he brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m glad.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He pulled back a little and looked at her, grinning. “Did you finally get enough yesterday?”

“Well, I’m all set right now. Unless you start kissing on me or something, I guess.” She ran her hand down his arm. “What are we up to today?”

“I still want to give you a massage,” he said. “You can’t get out of it that easy.”

“In what universe am I trying to get out of a massage by Christian Kane?” She stretched and rolled back over to hold him again. “I’m hungry first, though.”

They had breakfast, then Amanda hung out and watched while Christian took off his shirt and worked out with weights in the hotel fitness room.

It felt good to be working out again, he thought. He wasn’t back up to where he was before, but he was pretty satisfied with his progress. He glanced over to see if Amanda was bored and shook his head and grinned at how she was watching him, leaning forward, eyes shining, biting her lip.

“Are you getting worked up again?” he asked as he switched to heavier weights.

“Maybe.”

He found he was showing off some as he worked, pumping a little harder and higher. He couldn’t help but steal glances at Amanda, taking in the signs of her getting turned on. He didn’t even have to touch her. He broke a sweat as he did some squats with the weights and saw out of the corner of his eye how she had scooted forward on the bench she was watching from. She had her fingertip in her mouth, her tongue visible teasing against it, her eyes on his chest or shoulders or thighs.

Fuck. Maybe I will let her come in and watch when we get back, he thought. This is downright inspiring. He was paying enough attention to stop before he hurt himself, though.

He grabbed one of the dusty towels stacked by the door and wiped off his face and chest. “Let me get cleaned up, and then we’ll go back to bed,” he said.

Her grin was wide. “Oh, goody!”

He shook his head. “Git. Go on back to the room, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“All right.” She came at him, instead, which he probably should have expected. She gave him a hug, leaning against him.

“I’m all sweaty, sweetheart.” He put his arms around her resting on his chest, hearing his heartbeat.  

“Mmm-hmm.” She looked up and he kissed her, soft and sweet.

“I’ll be right there,” he said.

She smiled and finally let go and left the room. He went to their pile of supplies in the continental breakfast area outside their room, got what he needed and went back to the locker room with a lantern to wash up. He considered putting on clothes, then went naked back to their room to find Amanda in bed with all the candles lit.

“You ready, darlin’?”

“Mmm.” She looked up at him, her face soft and happy. “For anything.”

He took a deep breath as he eased back the covers and looked at her, naked and warm and truly ready for anything. Massage first, he thought.

“Turn over, hon.” She smiled at him and turned over, her arms up over her head, her bare back and ass toward him. He hesitated for just a moment, then warmed some oil between his palms and spread his hands on her back. He knew she would love any touch, but he wanted to do this right. He wished he had one of the books about massage he had snuck out of the bookstore on their shopping expedition to refer to - there was a lot to remember. But he had been looking them over pretty carefully when he had a minute of privacy so that would have to do.

He moved his hands up her back, letting his hands mold against her skin, firmly enough for him to feel the muscles. He let his hands glide down, down over her buttocks and thighs, then around to her hips and waist. He moved up the sides of her torso, traced over her shoulder blades, and swooped down again. She groaned and he felt her melt into the bed.   

He got more oil and moved to straddle her, resting on her thighs so he could reach her ass. He worked up her back, his fingers down towards her sides and his thumbs working their way up along her spine. She moaned again and he felt her muscles loosen under his hands.

I got this, he thought. It was easier than the books made it look, and if he wasn’t doing it right, who the fuck cared? He kept his hands moving, firm enough to articulate the muscles and bones, gentle enough to respond to her sounds and movement. He quit worrying about the book and just took her in, melting under his hands, glistening in the candlelight from the oil.

He worked his way up to her fingertips and down to her toes. He had her turn over and did it again, trying to move on from her breasts and tender inner thighs before he got her worked up. This was different from sex - he was watching so closely for her responses, so he could adjust to what she wanted. They were both on the edge of getting turned on, but it was sensual rather than sexual. He found his thoughts stilling and he was focused only on the sensations of touch and sight and sound of her under his hands.

After ending with the feather light touches she loved, he pulled the blanket up over her and lay next to her, his arm around her waist. She turned her head and looked at him and reached up to touch his face.

“Christian. That was amazing. How . . .” He grinned as she turned toward him, her eyes searching his face. “That was a lot different than last time.”

“You remember when we went to the bookstore?” he asked. “I got some books about massage. I’ve been looking at ‘em when I get a minute.”

“That’s right. You wouldn’t tell me - you said it was a surprise.” She scooted forward until every inch of her was pressed up against him. “You did that for me?”

His warm grin was broad enough for every crinkle around his eyes to show. “Of course for you.”

“That was so sweet.” She put her head against his chest and closed her eyes, a familiar place when she was so overwhelmed with him and couldn’t meet his gaze another second. She felt his arms go around her and just cradle her close.

“Wow, baby. That just . . .” She felt tears well up, but had no idea why. He did that for her . . . He was always so sweet, always thinking of her, but this was somehow different.

He kissed her hair. “It’s OK, darlin’. I’ve got ya,” he said and then she was crying for real, with no idea why she was clinging to him and sobbing. He just held her and didn’t say a word. When she started to wind down, he said, “The book said it could be pretty emotional, and you might cry.”

And then she was laughing and crying at the same time. She pulled back to look at him, wiping tears. “It did?”

“Yeah,” he said. He looked peaceful, with a hint of that satisfied smile he got when he was pleased with himself. He reached up to wipe away some tears and cradled her face with his warm hand. “I guess I did it right.”

She smiled and wiped more tears. “Christian, that was wonderful. I used to get professional massages, but it was never like that. I just felt so taken care of. So seen.” She didn’t know how to explain that if he asked, but he just smiled again.

“I’m glad. I like taking care of you.”

She again hid her face against him. She closed her eyes and soaked it in, his bare skin against her, his hand slowly up and down her back, his warmth, the scent of him, so familiar by now. Remembering his hands on her, warm and firm, articulating every bone, taking his time and releasing the tension in each muscle, and then ending with the feather-light touches she loved.

He found the books, she thought, hid them, read them in the very little time they weren’t together, and surprised her with a massage. She felt a warmth to her core. Who does that? It was as if . . . they were together. Not as if she happened to be the woman he stumbled upon and it was good enough.

 

It was early afternoon before they were up again. They stopped at the grocery and picked at snacks until they were full.

“Now what?” Amanda asked. “If it weren’t for the dogs we could just keep driving and see what happens.”

“What will we find if we keep driving north?”

“Not much. Dayton, and then about five hours later Toledo and Lake Erie, I guess. Not much between here and there.”

“Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s head north just a little more, then turn around and go home.” He started to gather up some of the stuff that had accumulated and then noticed that she had gathered up her lotions and bath gels and kicked everything else aside, even the clothes she had arrived in, and headed for the car. He dropped the armload he had and followed.

He got back on the expressway headed north and the road was wide, flat and empty ahead of them to the horizon. He gave her a wide grin and hit the gas, the tires squealed and they were off. He inched it faster and faster, shooting a glance at Amanda and seeing nothing but delight. The speed was intoxicating, the wind and the rush and the landscape flying by in a complete blur. He started worrying about a tire blowing and slowed it down, pulling off in Dayton.

He again stopped on the off ramp. “What do you think?”

“I think I love this.” She grinned at him, hair blown, face flushed from the wind, but she didn’t come over the console at him so he smiled back and head back south at a more sedate 80 or 90 miles per hour. Once they were on the road he reached over and took her hand, twining his fingers in hers, and they were back at Laurel Court less than an hour later.

“I’m almost sorry we’re back,” she said. “That was amazing.”

“We can take off again any time you want.” He leaned toward her and a smile lit up her face as she met him halfway, taking his kisses and giving back more. She was half over the small center console again and was after him, chasing him back against his seat with her kisses.

His hands were all over her, up to stroke her breast through the thin dress, down over her bottom - “When did you take your panties off?” he asked, sliding his hands under the dress and grabbing her bare ass.

“When your eyes were on the road. Just in case.”

“We should do something about that,” he said low and rough and pulled her close for another kiss, working his way down to her neck. “Wanna do something different?” he growled against her skin.

“Oh my God.” She gasped as he kissed on her neck and his hand filled with her breast. “Yes, of course, anything.”

“Here - hold on -” He pulled off his shirt and then slid his shorts down and his bare ass was on the leather seat. He scooted the seat as far back as it would go and tilted it back. “Here, baby - this way.” He guided her over to his lap but facing away from him and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her back and caressing her breasts up under her dress, finally pulling it up out of the way. He slid his hands down over her hips and lifted her up, with her help.

“There you go, darlin’ - yeah, like that,” he said as she eased down over him, sitting facing forward on his lap, her legs down next to his. Her with her knees next to his thighs would have given her more control, but there wasn’t room for that so this would do just fine.

“But I can’t touch you like this - oh my God . . .” She clung to the steering wheel as she starting moving on him.

He leaned back and then adjusted the seat so it was just right, he was close enough to hold on to her but she had room to move. “You’re driving now, sweetheart. Whatever you want - oh fuck -” She lifted up and then down on him, then started shifting forward and back, and it was so tight like this, and he could hardly move, it was all her.

She was gasping, moving faster, and he held on to her to keep her from going too far forward. “What is it -” she moaned. “It’s so different -”

He’d been told it hit all different spots like this, and, yes, he had the seat just right - even while gritting his teeth and trying to push against her he reached around to touch her, feeling how wet she was and able to feel how he slid in and out of her as she moved on him. He couldn’t be too precise like this but he could tell when he found her clit by how she startled and then her moans and how she was moving against him.

He didn’t tease, he stayed right on her to have her come fast and within two minutes he could feel her clenching around his cock and see even her back flushing as she moaned and ground against him, her whole body shaking, finally collapsing over the steering wheel.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” he groaned as he leaned forward to hold her through the aftershocks as best he could.  

She could feel her thighs still trembling from her climax and the strain of holding herself up over him as she clung to the steering wheel. He was leaned forward and his head was on her back, his arms around her. 

“Wow.” She took a deep breath. “Wow. You were right. That was different.” 

“Did you like it?” 

“Oh my God yes. It hit all different places.” She wasn’t sure what was different, but she was still shaking. Her leg was cramping up, though, and she felt around until she found the door handle and popped it open. They extricated themselves from the car and both of them stretched out cramped muscles. 

“You’re going to have to wipe out your new car,” she said. 

“Totally fucking worth it.” He pulled her close for a hug, but they were both sweaty and getting chilled in the wind. The afternoon was spent with getting cleaned up and dressed, her keeping him company while he got dinner, and then after they ate, cuddling on the daybed in the parlor and both of them dozing off.   


	17. Chapter 17 - Tell Me About Your Folks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor guy - he still can't quite believe he won't lose his temper and blow it, and lose the little bit that's left in the world.

Chapter 17

Dusk was falling when she woke up and lay listening to his breathing. 

I feel so happy right now, she thought. She felt him move against her and she saw his blue eyes open, then focus on her and he smiled. 

“Hey,” he said softly. 

“Hey, you,” she said. “That was amazing, that last time in the car.” 

He grinned. “I’m glad you liked it. I thought you might.” 

She never got tired of looking at him. He seemed content to just lay and take her in, as well. “That was a crazy couple of days,” she said softly. 

“Yeah,” he said. “You keep me busy.” 

“The road trip was your idea,” she said. He grinned, scooted away and got up to get a bottle of whiskey and a glass, coming back from the bar holding up a bottle of wine as well. When she shook her head he put it aside and sat down with her again. She moved up against him, closing the few inches between them and closing her eyes to soak in his warmth and strength and how his arm went around her to pull her closer. 

“It was a goddamn good idea.” He kissed her head. 

“Yep. I’ve never been that fast before. That was amazing. It could get addictive.” 

“We used to drag race when I was a kid,” he said. “Well, 16, 18. Loved it.” 

“I remember!  _ Let’s Take a Drive.”  _

He chuckled. “Yeah. I forget sometimes you know everything about me.” 

“Who was that about?” 

“ _ Let’s Take a Drive? _ Emily. My first girlfriend in high school.  _ Still Comin’ Down _ was about her, too. We didn’t go out for too long - well, the summer after junior year and most of senior year, I guess. I was an ass. She was one where I didn’t know how good I fuckin’ had it until it was too late.” 

“Did you stay in touch?” 

He was quiet for a few moments, but she could feel he was still relaxed. “She got married right outa college. Three kids, I think. I ran into her when I went back home one time. She was havin’ a hard time - her asshole husband had just left.” He sighed. “She was a sweet girl. She did not deserve the shit she got. She wouldn’t of done any better with me, though. I wasn’t staying in town nohow. Last I heard she got married again, she was doing all right.”

“That’s good.” In the three or four weeks since they met, this was the most open and relaxed he had ever been. She felt a thrill as she wondered how many other people he had ever shared that with. 

“Now, you tell me something about you,” he said. 

“Oh - sure. Let’s see.” She thought a moment. “My first boyfriend was Sam. I was 17 and he was 22. We met at a church group. He wasn’t very nice.” She felt Christian stiffen and start to pull back to look at her. 

“Nothing physical,” she said quickly, and felt him relax a little. “Just mean and sarcastic. We dated about a year and a half, and I had no self esteem left, although I somehow had the strength to break it off. But I was a mess. I was ashamed of my sex drive - he had me convinced there was something wrong with me.”

“What?” Christian scooted up to sit in the day bed and pulled her back against him. She took a deep breath and relaxed against him. These memories were old enough that there wasn’t much pain, though.

“It took me a while to figure out that was him, not me. You know what, my mom never said a word. I was 17, here is this man five years older picking me up every weekend. Didn’t bother her. When I look back, that was weird.” 

“Yeah. Why did you go out with him in the first place?”

“I wasn’t that confident to start with,” she said. “He was older, I was flattered, I didn’t know any better.” 

“Hmmm.” 

“So I finally broke up with that guy, and a week later Ryan asked me out. We were all a part of the same church group. I think he was keeping an eye out and waiting.” A picture of Ryan on their first date flashed through her mind and she smiled, although she had to take a deep breath and noticed her pulse speeding up a little. 

“Smart guy.” 

“Awww!” She hugged against his arms around her waist. “That was sweet. Ryan, being a normal male, appreciated me a lot more. He really took good care of me and helped me realize I was capable and smart. And it’s not bad to be sexual. ” 

“I’m glad. I wasn’t too sure about him at first, but the more I hear the more I like Ryan.” 

“He was a really good guy. Our life just got overwhelming.” She stopped a moment and turned to look at him. “Christian, I think that’s the first time I’ve thought of him or talked about him without having to fight off a panic attack.” 

“Aw, darlin’. You OK?” He shifted around so he could see her face. 

She stopped to check. “Yeah. I’m feeling a little shaky, but I’m ok.” She settled back again. “Do you know we’ve been physically together almost every second since yesterday morning? Are you going crazy yet?” 

“Huh.” He considered that. “I guess so, since you came over and asked for your fight lesson.” He was quiet for a moment. “No, I’m not,” he said finally. “I like it. And when I keep you busy in bed, you can’t be doing crazy shit like wrestling mowers.” 

She chuckled. “You haven’t seen the end of the mower wrestling. You’ll get used to it.” 

“I guess.” 

They were quiet a few minutes. “What now?” she finally asked. “It’s too early for bed. Are you gonna go play?” 

“Nah. Not tonight.” 

“These are the times that drove me crazy before we met,” she said. “If you don’t keep busy, stuff starts getting in.” 

“This is when I would get passed-out drunk.” He held up his glass and took another sip. “Can’t think if you’re unconscious.” 

“I tried that at first. I would get paranoid and weepy and sick - it would make it worse.” 

“You gotta drink fast, and get past the emotional part to seriously drunk.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She snuggled against him. “Oh, I know. We haven’t played pool yet. Might be fun.” 

“Why not.” 

She did grab the wine this time and he went through his usual three or four drinks to her two glasses of wine.

He was, of course, as great at pool as she was terrible, but she didn’t mind as she got lessons with his arms around her to show her how to hold the cue, and it made him laugh when she somehow got two balls to jump off the table at the break. 

As he leaned over the table, intent and focused on this as he was at everything he did, she leaned back and enjoyed watching him. She noticed the little tilt to his head and how he pursed his lips when he didn’t like his shot, and how he flipped his hair back before lining up his cue. He looked up at her with a smile after every shot.

When they finished the first game he racked up the balls again and coached her through each shot - he was a natural teacher and loved to share the things he loved, she noticed. She didn’t care much about pool but she loved his attention and teasing so she did her best. 

As they headed up to bed she said, “I can’t wait for my fight lesson tomorrow.”

“You wanna keep on that?” he asked. 

“Of course! I loved it.”

She felt a warm glow at his crooked smile and “That’s my girl!” 

 

When Christian woke the next morning, she was up on an elbow watching him. “That was amazing in the car yesterday,” she said as soon as she saw his eyes open. “I want to do that again sometime.” 

“Mmm. You got it. One reverse cowgirl on order.” He stretched and rolled to his back and she cuddled up next to him. A picture flashed to his mind of her bare back as she rode him, his hands on her hips - he took a breath. “I liked it too. It’ll be fun in here, where you get to move around more.” 

“Can we do a fight lesson today, too?” 

“You wanna fuckin’ wait until we get out of bed?” he asked. 

“No.” She sat up and threw a leg over and sat astride him, leaning over to hold his hands over his head. “Got you. What are you gonna do about it?” 

“Mmm.” He watched her bare breasts swaying in front of his face. “Not a goddamn thing.” She teased him, lowering until her nipples brushed against his face, then lifting her body up again when he tried to capture her with his mouth. After the second time he pulled a hand free, wrapped it around her waist and pulled her down until his mouth was on her breast and he was sucking on her nipple, twirling it with his tongue.

“No fair,” she murmured, pushing down against him, filling his mouth with her. His hand was on her other breast and he rolled until she was under him and he was still tasting and teasing her. She moaned and arched her back against him, then met his gaze and grinned, biting her lip, as she started wiggling, trying to slide out from under him to the edge of the bed. She almost made it, throwing him a wicked grin, before he put his arm around her and pulled her back against him. 

“You got me,” she said. She pushed on his shoulders with both hands and started sliding up, toward the headboard, and he groaned at the sensation of her body sliding up under his, her breasts and hips wriggling under him. 

Laughing, he rolled to his side, wrapped her up in his arms, and slid her back down under him, then rolled back over to pin her again. “You can’t get away that easy,” he said.

But it was like trying to pin a jungle cat, without the claws.“Oh, yeah?” and she was slipping away again, making the most of moving her body all over him as much as getting away. 

He was hard as granite from her breasts moving against his chest and face, her hips grinding against him, the look in her eye and her lip barely caught in her teeth, the smell of her and feeling how wet she was against him. He caught her again and this time threaded his fingers in hers, their hands on the pillow over her head. 

“Now what are you gonna do?” he growled. 

She tried to pull away and when she couldn’t, her whole body arched as if she was coming right then.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. He could feel his heart pounding as she pulled against his hands and struggled under him. He could see her face, she was loving this, but as he held her tighter the roar in his head was too much and he let go and rolled to his back, breathing hard.

“Awww,” he heard first, a disappointed sound, and he closed his eyes and grit his teeth. Even as he felt the flash of fear over her leaving because he had disappointed her he knew it was unreasonable. And the anger at her, too, he realized, for expecting this of him and putting him in this position. He was still gasping for breath when she scooted over and cuddled against him, an arm over his chest. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered against his neck. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah.” He took another deep breath. “We’ll do that for ya sometime, darlin’, but not yet.” 

“No.” She propped up and looked at him and he could see the concern etched on her face. “Christian, I don’t want you to ever do something for me if that’s not what you want. We don’t ever have to do that. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start it today.” 

“That’s alright. I’m not sure who in the hell started that.” His breathing was even again as he put his arm over hers on his chest.

“Are you OK?” she asked again. 

“Yeah, baby. I’m fine.” 

She was quiet. “I’m worried about you,” she said softly. 

“What?” He pulled back to look at her. “Why?” 

“You had a rough couple of days the last time this came up.” 

“No, I’m fine.” He rolled over to hold her and meet her worried gaze. “Really. It’s OK.”

“I have been so good.” He saw a little grin. “I have not tried to get to you chase me and catch me so many times.”

“You’ve been tempted?” 

“Oh, God, so many times.” 

 

After they got up and ate, Amanda asked again for her fight lesson. “What have I fucking started?” he said, grinning. They went over everything from the first time. 

“Yeah, I gotta get some gear,” he said. “You’re picking it up quick and you gotta be able to practice following through.” When they paused to catch their breath he just grinned at her jumping up and down, but she couldn’t help it, this was so exciting. 

“Ok,” he said as he stepped back up to her. “Hold your hand like this.” He showed her how to hold it flat, straight with her wrist, with her fingers bent at the knuckle. “Now feel this -” he took her hand and had her hit his palm. “If it’s straight, no problem. If you let your wrist bend, you’ll get hurt. Feel that?” He had her do it until she could feel what he meant. 

“Now, do this,” he said. He pushed his knuckles against his own throat, and she did the same to herself. “It doesn’t take much, does it? Just a little pressure, and you can tell that’s gonna fucking hurt, right? The windpipe is about as strong as a toilet paper roll. So if you do this -” his hand whipped out and back, quick as a snake - “and hit the throat, that fucker’ll go down. You might kill him. Let’s try it.” 

Oh, shit, she thought. Again he stepped up behind her and guided her through a few times, letting her feel both the the twist of her body and of her arm as she struck. 

“All right,” he said. “Good job. Let’s see, I want you to feel this. Here -” he held up his palms. “Hit as hard as you can, it doesn’t hurt on your hand. Try it.” 

She hit her own hand and nodded. “That’ll fucking crush a windpipe. I’m a bad guy, now,” he said. “Don’t let me get close.” He started toward her, hands up, and she did as he showed her and struck at his palms with her knuckles. 

“Good,” he said. “Keep going.” Heart pounding, she struck one hand after the other as he took a step forward and she stepped back. 

“Don’t let me push you back!” he yelled. “You take control, remember? Come on, come get me!” She started hitting faster, careful to keep her fingers tight and hand stiff, pushing up against him until he finally took a step back. 

“All right! Good girl! Keep me moving! You got it!” Her hands were faster, and she no longer had to think about each hit. He braced himself and started pushing back and she redoubled her efforts, not slowing down until he was backing up again. 

“Nice!” He dropped his hands and stepped back. “You got it, tiger. Good job!” He opened his arms and she grabbed him, holding tight. 

“That is so great!” she said, breathing hard. “I love it.” 

“I’m really glad you asked for this, sweetheart. This is gonna be a lot of fun.” 

 

He was messing around the carriage house an hour or so later when she found him again. “Hey, Christian!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He looked up from the workbench and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands. 

“What kind of cookies do you want?”

“What?”

“I want to make cookies. What do you want?” She dropped two cookbooks in front of him. “These are vegan cookies - I can make any of these. And I can adapt most of these,” she pointed to the  _ Mrs. Fields Best Cookies,  _ “as long as they aren’t, like, meringue or butter cookies.” 

“Hot damn.” He started paging through the books. “This is great.” He looked up sideways and grinned. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Yep, I am. It’s been a great few days.”

“Oh, shit, ranger cookies. My mom used to make those.” He turned the book toward her. 

“Let’s see.” She picked up the cookbook. “Coconut, oats - I’ll use flax for the egg. We don’t have chocolate chips. Rice crispies - the cereal’s all stale, but I’ll use nuts for the crunch. Yep, I can do that. Do you like pecans or walnuts?” 

“Either’s fine,” he said. 

“Good. This’ll be fun. Do you have plans for lunch?” 

“Um, no, I hadn’t thought of it.” 

“What if we marinate and grill some veggies?” she asked. “We have butternut squash and potatoes and onions, and I think some more asparagus.” 

“Sounds great.”

She dropped the books on the workbench and stepped up against him. “I  _ loved _ my fight lesson.”

He put his arms around her. “I could see that. I’m glad. I did too.” She was smiling up at him so he kissed her and felt her melt against him for a moment.

“All right. See you in a little bit.” And she grabbed her books and headed back to the house. He watched her, bemused. Amanda not holding back was a little hyper and a lot of fun.

He came up a little later and offered to man the grill, which she gladly accepted as she finished up the cookies. He grilled some canned ham with the veggies and it was delicious. The afternoon was spent catching up in the gardens, working together. The first of the bush beans were ready, and Christian was excited to brainstorm what he wanted to do with them. 

They took a walk with the dogs, ate the rest of the ham and veggies and some cookies for supper, then Amanda was curled up on the daybed in the parlor listening to him play. He just got a kick out of watching her, she was so happy. It was still fairly early when he put his guitar aside. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said. “You wanna go to bed with me?” 

‘Oh, God, yes.”     

He kissed her neck, nibbling, and she gasped and he felt her hand twine in his hair. For some reason an image of their first night together flashed in his mind and he heard her voice, ‘I’m about to come just from you kissing my neck.’ He groaned and started kissing down her body, sucking on her nipple, licking her stomach, tickling up her thigh to her hot, wet pussy, started to open it with his tongue . . . 

“Christian, no.” 

He took a big breath and rested his head on her thigh for a moment, reaching up to find her hand and give it a squeeze. 

“Now if I recall -” he crawled back up her body, kissing every part until he had her head cradled in his hands, “You fucking love this. You were screaming until your throat was sore, I believe? And you had your legs wrapped around me, grinding that sweet pussy in my face?”

He kissed her and could feel not a chill but a hesitation. 

I am just not in the mood for this tonight, he decided. He softened his kisses, then deepened them, until she was whimpering and moaning and pressing against him as if trying to meld them together. She surprised him in so many ways, but this reaction to his touches and kisses was as reliable as the sun and got him so turned on every time. 

“Jesus, Amanda.” He pressed against her leg. “Look what you do to me.” 

She looked at him, her eyes clouded with desire, her lips parted. “Let me see.” She pushed against him to roll him to his back as she moved down, kissing and touching as she went. “Did I do this?” 

And then she took him in her mouth, and the heat and wetness and swirling tongue had him pushing against her already and he felt her settle in, stroking his balls while her mouth and hand went crazy on his cock, taking him deep and then pressure - 

“What are you doing?” he gasped. The pressure eased for a moment and he felt the vibration of a chuckle or moan, and then again, deep and her tongue stroking against him - he took it as long as he could, his hand resting on her head, then he gasped, “Stop,” and she stopped right away, sliding him out of her mouth. He was so grateful for that - he could go right to the edge because he could trust her to stop. 

He took her shoulders and guided her up until she was even with him on the bed and kissed her, harder this time and as always she was ready, taking his kisses and returning them, urging him deeper. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. 

“It’s my turn,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. He had been blown away by how she had exploded the last time he went down on her, and he didn’t like that she was trying to deny that to herself again. 

Not on my watch, he thought. Plus, he admitted to himself, he just really wanted to eat her up. He softened his tone and reached up to stroke her face, brush back her hair, and tease her lips with his thumb. 

“Do you trust me?” he said softly, holding her gaze. She swallowed hard and nodded, her blue eyes wide on his. He could feel her heart pounding and could feel the wetness where she was pressed up against his leg.

He held her a gaze a moment longer, then gave her a soft kiss and worked his way down her neck to the soft spot on her throat that left her gasping. He let his fingertips trail over her in the way she liked to be touched, skimming her body but attending to every part, as he kissed down over her breasts and stomach. Her moans and squirming under his touches and kisses got him so turned on.

As he kissed down her thigh and back up she opened her legs for him, just a little at first, then more as he gently stroked her with his hand and then his finger, feeling how wet and soft and hot she was already. He grasped her thighs and gently eased them just a little further apart, catching his breath at seeing her open before him. He kept his hands there, firm on her, as he leaned down and tasted her. She would know exactly what he was doing this time. 

“Oh my God,” he heard her moan as his tongue eased her apart, gently stroking. He would stop, of course, if she really said no but he had no intention of giving her a chance to do so. He knew by now she liked this as she liked kisses, teasing and building, so he was careful to hold himself back. 

Just a little more at a time, little licks of her sweet nectar. He wanted so much to devour her, use his tongue and taste every part like he did her mouth, hold her hips and have her take it like she did his cock. 

Her hands were in his hair, second by second shifting between holding him back and bringing him deeper. She was moaning with every lick and her hips were starting to thrust against him. He slid his hands up to her hips and tasted her deeper, teasing his tongue for a moment against her opening, sucking for just a moment when she moaned. If he could wait just a little longer, she would be begging, demanding . . 

She was moving against him now, her whimpering cries matching her thrusts, and he used one hand to spread her labia and taste her, sucking on her and running his tongue around her engorged clitoris, holding on as her legs went around him and she started to buck against him. He gave a flick to her clit and she arched as if electrocuted and cried out and now he could do what he had been wanting to do, burying his face in her, tasting and thrusting his tongue and lapping her up, drowning in her sweet juices. Her hands in his hair pulled enough to hurt but that only added to the sensation and he groaned against her. 

“Please, please,” he could hear her, barely coherent, so he settled on her clit as best he could as she bucked around him, running his tongue around it, then gently on it, and then sucking right on that most sensitive spot and the world exploded. Her thighs held his head like a vise, her whole body was quivering and shaking, even on her legs he could feel the heat and see the blush that rose when she came, and he could hear that high-pitched keening that he had only elicited a few times. 

“Stop stop stop,” she said and he released her, gasping for breath. He slid out from between her legs and scooted up to her, wiping his face on the sheet as he went, and she was cradled in his arms against him, feeling the aftershocks. They seemed to go on and on, when he kissed her forehead or shifted against her it triggered another mini-explosion. His heart was pounding and he was rock hard, and he could taste her and feel her wet against him where he had her pulled close. 

After an eternity her body finally calmed and she pulled back to look at him, wonder in her eyes. That look almost had him come as he pressed up against her, and he took a deep breath and closed his eyes a moment. The way she looked at him after they made love, from their first night together in Nashville, as if he had revealed the secrets of the universe to her, shook him. 

Back under control, he opened his eyes and still, right now, she was looking at him as if he had given her the greatest gift in the world.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered and he groaned and kissed her, still kissing while shifting her to her back and feeling her spread her legs under him and he slid into her, so tight and hot and still pulsing from her orgasm. She pulled him down to her and wrapped her legs around him and it was only a few strokes and he was ready. 

“Yes, yes,” she whispered, her breathing changing to match his and the universe exploded again, taking him with it.

He gradually came back to himself, still wrapped in her arms. She had grabbed a blanket to cover them and he shifted next to her. 

“Wow,” she said softly as he met her gaze. “That was -” 

He grinned. “I told you that you liked that.” 

“You were right. Again.” She ran her hand down over his hip and cuddled up close.

“I loved it,” he said, his voice low and husky again. She smiled but turned her face, not meeting his gaze. He tilted his head. “Why does that bother you?” 

“I dunno,” she said. “When you have a boyfriend and a husband who have a really different reaction to it . . . it’s an easy thing to get insecure about.” 

“Darlin’,” he said, his grin broad, “I am so gonna get you over that.” He pulled back to look at her. “Are you gonna make me work that hard for it every time?” he asked. 

“Maybe.” She snuggled up against him. 

“You better watch it. One of these days you’ll tell me no and I’ll stop, and then you’ll be sorry.” 

She lifted her chin and grinned. “Bet you don’t.”

 

Two days later they spent the morning in the gardens, as they did almost every morning before it got warm. It was way more time than Amanda had put in by herself, but Christian tended to like a routine and he was committed to getting as much fresh food as possible. It was getting warmer and the spinach was petering out but the beans, lettuce, and early summer squash was doing well and the tomatoes were starting to flower. Amanda got bored with pulling weeds and wandered off and Christian found her a while later in her hammock.

“Want company?” he asked as he approached.

“Sure.” She closed her book and scooted over and he lay down next to her, pushing off with his foot as he got in to set them swinging. 

“Did you get much more done?” she asked. He was on his back so she cuddled against his chest. 

“Got that third bed all weeded. What are you reading?” 

“Oh -” she turned the cover to show him  _ The Complete Works of Emily Dickinson _ . “I got so bored with the romances. I’m bored with all my books. I thought I’d try some poetry.” She dropped it on the ground. “It’s not any better.” 

“Have you always read a lot?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” she said. “My whole family did. At dinner my dad would have the newspaper, and my mom and the three oldest kids would be reading books. My youngest sister would get so bored, sitting at dinner with no one to talk to.”

“You were allowed to read at the table?”

“Well, my mom did, so she couldn’t say anything to us.”

“That’d get you in trouble at my house,” he said. He put his arm over hers. He was warm and she could smell his sweat from working in the sun. 

“Tell me about you folks,” he said. She grinned against his chest. She never volunteered much about her life, but he had been asking more and more, and it was getting easier. Anyway, talking about her parents was a lot different than talking about Ryan and the kids. 

“My dad was 80. He died in the first wave - you knew that, right?” Christian nodded. “He was such a sweet, funny old guy. We really got a kick out of him. He couldn’t throw one thing away in his whole life. He was just so proud of us, of anything we did. A few months before the end, he went to Susan’s first guitar recital. She said, ‘Mom, that was so embarrassing! He was just going on and on about it!’” 

She sighed. “I hadn’t thought of him in a long time. I miss my dad.” She looked over at Christian. He was just watching her, waiting, his eyes soft and with a little smile, just taking her in. 

“My mom died of lung cancer when I was 23, right after I got married,” she said. “She never saw her grandkids.”

She was quiet so long he finally asked, “What was she like?” 

Amanda shook her head. “Angry. Unpredictable. It was pretty scary. We didn’t get hit, but she would just blow up. You never knew what would set her off. My dad -” she grinned. “She would tell him what he was supposed to do, he would nod and agree, and then just go off and do whatever he wanted. She would go crazy. ‘Gary, I told you -’”, she said, mimicking her mom’s harsh voice. 

Christian didn’t say anything, just turned to face her and pulled her close. 

She sighed and relaxed into him. “I wonder, sometimes, if we could have worked it out. If we would have gotten close, if she had lived.” She was quiet for a few moments, then shook her head. “Ok. Now tell me about Mike and Pam.”

He shook his head and did not bother to ask how she knew the names of his parents. He described a childhood with a religious, devoted mom and a tough dad. They had high expectations of both him and Jennifer, he said. “But by middle school they were mostly just trying to keep me in line. I was a troublemaker.” 

“You? No!” she teased. 

“Yep. Hard to believe, I know.” He grinned. “I was always talking back, and couldn’t pass up a dare. My momma had her hands full.” 

“Well, they did a good job. I bet they were proud of you.” 

He was quiet a moment, his eyes distant. “Yeah.” He smiled and focused on her. “Yeah, I think they were.” 


	18. Chapter 18 - Maybe it Matters That Its Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christian is so focused and intent on everything he does. It's fun to tease him sometimes.
> 
> And what if somehow, you could start to think that you were special to Christian Kane, not just a fan, a "friend and family", but building a connection no one else has?

Chapter 18

 

It was early afternoon a few days later when Amanda stopped by the dojo room Christian had set up, with the mats and equipment and the martial arts dummy she had named Bob. She loved her at least daily fight lessons with Christian -  even practicing by herself brought back some of the rush and adrenaline . She stepped up and faced Bob, then with a twist of her hips and shoulders gave him a palm strike to the face that rocked the manikin back. 

She grinned. Christian was pretty particular and didn’t let her stop, making little corrections until she was doing it right, and it paid off. She didn’t even have to think, putting her arms up to fend off the imaginary attacker and then striking again and again, as Christian said taking that fucker down if he was stupid enough to come after her. 

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Christian leaning in the doorway with that half-grin and his arms crossed. 

“Now what did poor ol’ Bob do to you?” he asked. 

“He looked at me funny.” She stepped into a forearm strike and a knife chop to the neck. “He won’t make that mistake again.” 

“No, ma’am. I guess not,” he said. 

She could hear the smile in his voice and glanced at him but he seemed content to watch from the doorway. She centered herself and stepped forward, slapping a hand on Bob’s chest and then sliding her hand up to his throat and taking one more step, rocking him back. That was a fun one to do with Christian - he had assured that he knew how to fall and she wouldn’t hurt him. When she followed that through with a leg behind his and then popped her leg straight while pushing him off balance by his throat, that big strong man went down. He just shook his head and grinned at how much she liked learning the take-downs. 

Now, as he watched, she turned her head for a moment to make sure he wouldn’t see her grin, then stepped back for a palm thrust again, but this time keeping her body straight and just thrusting her hand at Bob’s face. She switched hands and did it again, no twist of the hips or shoulders, just basically delivering a slap in the face. 

The third time he said, “What the hell are you doing? That’s not gonna slow him down. You gotta get your body in it.” 

She turned to him, head tilted. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake. You know this.” He stepped up and boom, boom, boom, three hits on poor Bob, twisting into it, fast as a whip. 

She bit her lip, trying to hide her smile. “Maybe you better show me again.” 

“Here.” He stepped up behind her, his hands on her hips and his legs against hers so she could feel the movement she needed along the length of her body. “You were doing it just fine before. Like this -” His hands were firm and warm on her hips and then slid up to her waist, and she could feel him pressing against her as he guided her through the moves. She was more focused on the feel of him against her and the soft murmur of “Yeah, like that,” against her ear than taking down Bob. 

“Try again,” he said, stepping back. She took a breath and stepped forward, not thinking but letting the muscle memory guide her through three fast hits that spun Bob a little on his base. 

“There you go. What the fuck was that before?” he asked. 

“I don’t know, Christian,” she said. “I’m still not sure. You better show me again.” 

He sighed and stepped up against her again. When his hands went on her hips she caught them and drew them up around her waist, pulling his arms around her and laying her arms over his, leaning back against him.

“Like this?” she said, twisting her hips but in the other direction than him so she was pushing up against him. 

She felt him hesitate, then his body softened from fight-training mode and he pulled her close, molding against her. 

“Almost,” he said, his voice lower and rougher. “If you wanted my hands on you, why didn’t you just say so?” 

“What’s the fun in that?” 

She tilted her head as he kissed her neck and he ran his hands up over her breasts. He wrapped his arms around her waist again to pull her up against him. Still, after - what, four or five weeks? It took just his touches and kisses get her going. Her breath was catching at the feel of his mouth on her skin and she could feel him moving against her in response to the low moan in her throat. 

“Hey,” she said, a little breathless, running her fingers up and down his arm wrapped around her.

“Mmm?”

You - oh, wow.” She lost her train of thought for a moment at the feel of his tongue on her skin. “Um, you’ve never taught me how to get out of this. I wonder if I can figure it out.” 

She heard his chuckle and felt his breath against her. “You don’t know what the hell you want today. OK, tiger, go for it.” He barely moved but she felt him shift from cuddling to restraining.

“Let’s see -” She took a breath and stopped to think it through. “My arms are free. You’re pretty stable, though.” She shifted her weight back and could feel he would be able to catch himself. She took a step back, between his legs, and felt him go a little off balance. “There we go,” she said and pushed again. 

“But how are you going to keep me from taking you down with me? You do not want to end up on the ground,” he reminded her. His low voice and breath in her ear gave her shivers. 

I think I want it all today, she thought.

“I do have your arm,” she said. “If I do this -” she raised her right elbow and swung, touching his face, and he moved back, reacting as if hit. “And then . . .” she pushed her right arm against his at her waist, pinning him to her. She reached up with her left hand to grab his shoulder, stepped out her right foot, and tried to pull him around to the front to trip over her foot. He was overbalanced for a second but then caught himself and had a tighter grip on her than ever.

“Damn,” she said. “I give up - what do I do?” 

“You had the right idea, baby. Good job.” He led her through the steps, showing her two different ways to get out of a waist hold from behind. 

It was tricky but finally she did it. He went down on his back and she landed on him with a fake elbow to the chest. “Boom! Gotcha!” 

“You got me.” He grinned as he hugged her, looking up at her. “Don’t get this close, though. Kick his head from up there and get out of the way.” 

“I know.” She looked at him, smiling, a little breathless from the workout. “That was fun.” 

He wasn’t out of breath at all. “I can’t hardly touch you anymore without you trying to take me down.” He grinned and tilted his head. “That’s my girl.” 

“No, you can touch me.” She cradled his head with both hands and kissed him, hungry and hard. She didn’t come after him after every fight lesson, but it always left her buzzing and alive. He met her kisses and tried to roll over with her in his arms but she resisted so he let her take the lead, aggressive and commanding.

“Mmm.” She pulled back to look at him. “I like that.” 

“Me, too.” He reached up and cradled her face.

“You know what I want right now?” she asked.

His face lit up in a huge grin. “No, sweetheart. What do you want right now?”

She smiled in return. “What’s that grin for?”

“Because,” he shifted her weight a little and settled his arms around her, “Now that you’re telling me what you want? Not once have you asked for anything that wasn’t purely my pleasure to provide.”

“Hmm.” She chuckled. “This is how contrary I am - now I don’t wanna ask, because it’s going to prove you right.” She leaned down and whispered in his ear, “I want to go down on you, and I want to suck you off.” She heard his quick intake of breath at her words and had a mischievous grin as she pulled back to look at him. “You always make me stop.”

“Now wait one fucking minute -” He rolled over and she was under him, contained and safe. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t  _ make _ you stop. I’m just lettin’ you know that’s the last chance to stop if that’s what you wanna do.” 

“Sounds like you’re saying ‘stop’ to me.” She tightened her arms around his neck and sighed. She was so happy to be there under him, against him, looking at him. “So, is that a maybe?” 

“What the fuck do you think?” but he was smiling down at her with the crinkles prominent around his blue eyes. There were a few more urgent kisses and then they headed down the hall to the bedroom. 

Over the next week or so they settled into a loose routine. Although sometimes one or the other of them would prepare a meal, often they ended up collaborating and cooking together, especially as the fresh produce came in. He went out and got meat a couple of times, rabbit and squirrel, and each time it was a half-day affair for the planning and cooking. 

There were a few short road trips, more than Amanda had done by herself, if something popped up they needed or out of boredom. Since the daybed in the parlor worked out so well they picked up two more, moving some furniture from the library and music room into the hallways to make room. 

Christian started accumulating interesting cars and trucks in the visitors’ lot to tinker on. They did some more drag-racing and Amanda got to drive, screaming in joy as she went up I-75 at 120 miles an hour while Christian grinned at her and hung on tight. They each spent a few hours a day on their own projects - he tried to interest Amanda in car repair, lifting weights and hunting, but after shooting the rifle once she was done. She asked him to join her with her art projects or meditation, but he just grinned and shook his head. 

But there were massages, and hot tub time, and hanging out in the hammock, and a rainy day when he spent hours in bed with her. He sometimes stayed out a little longer while hunting or she went for a walk and declined his company when they needed some space. It was more common, though, for them to seek each other out. She would keep him company in the garage or he would find a project to work on in the library or art room with her. 

He got out the guitar most days, and more and more they played with the drums. They went for walks and bike rides and played with the dogs, and talked, and made plans - not too far ahead, just a few weeks. And most days, if they didn’t tumble to the ground, or car, or a daybed, they made love in the big king bed before drifting to sleep. 

 

Amanda had made pancakes for breakfast, and since it was such a beautiful day she carried it all outside to the little cafe table on the patio. They were enjoying their coffee and hot chocolate in the sunshine. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about something,” she said. “You’ve talked a lot about how much you were drinking, but you’ve been pretty reasonable as far as I’ve seen. Have you cut back that much?”

He was watching her as she spoke, as he almost always did, but then he looked away. “Yeah, a little.” 

“Oh.” 

“Well . . .” He rubbed his jaw. She had noticed that was what he did instead of run his hand through his hair when it was tied up. “To be honest with ya, I’ve probably been drinking more than you realize.” 

“What do you mean?” She looked at him curiously. 

“Well, darlin’, I’m not going to do my heavy drinking in front of you.” 

“What? Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not? Why would I?” he asked. 

“We talked about this, when we stopped at the liquor store,” she said. “It’s not my business.”

“Well, still.”

“Still what? Are you purposely hiding how much you are drinking from me?” 

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms. “Why do you care? It’s none of your business what I drink.” 

“Well, obviously. I just said that. You do what you want. But . . .” She sighed, frustrated. “Christian, just answer my question. Are you hiding how much you drink because you are concerned about my reaction?”

“What if I was?” he asked. 

“Goddamit. I’d be pissed, and I guess hurt that you didn’t believe me and think I’m waiting to get on you about it.”

He frowned. “If you don’t care what I drink, I don’t understand why you’re all mad.”

“Because this isn’t how we are going to do this!” she yelled. “One other person on the planet, and you feel like you have to hide something? I’m not doing it, and I don’t want you to either.”

“Do what? What the fuck are you talking about?” he yelled back.

“What is it you think will happen if you drink in front of me, or get drunk in front of me? What do you think I will do?” she demanded. 

“Well, I told you, most women had a strong opinion about this,” he said through gritted teeth. “They don’t like it, or try to save me. A few try to beat me and drink more than me.” 

“And I told you I’m not them, didn’t I? You think I’m waiting to jump out and catch you at something.” She could feel tears start to well in her frustration. 

“So, what - you want me to be drinking?” 

“Oh, for God’s sake. It’s not up to me! I have no opinion because it’s none of my business!” 

“Then why are you so mad? What the fuck do you want from me?” He reached out and took her arm and she jerked it away and stood up, pushing her chair back. 

“Nothing! Christian, I want nothing from you! I’m going to do what I want, when I want. And I’m mad because if you start changing for me, you’ll expect me to do the same for you, and I’m not doing it.” 

“Then don’t. I never asked you to.” 

“And I never asked you to, either!” she yelled. “What kind of shitty judgemental people were you around that you can’t even imagine doing what you want?” 

“What the fuck? I do what I want.”

“Fuck you.” She turned and headed around the corner of the house toward the street.

“Amanda!” he called and she could hear his chair push back and him coming after her. 

“Leave me alone!” she yelled and looked back to see him standing, staring after her with his mouth open.

As angry and frustrated as she was, she couldn’t help grinning a little when she heard his voice as she walked away. “What in the hell just happened?”  

She didn’t walk far. She got to the street and went a few houses down and stopped at a large Tudor she had not been in before. The door was locked and she didn’t have her tools to force it, so she found a rock and broke out the window in the door and let herself in. Out of habit she stopped to look and smell, then went and found the master suite and dropped onto the bed. 

That poor guy, was her first thought. She thought she had been trapped in her life, but she had never had thousands of people watching and judging everything she did. 

I need to let this go, she thought. She had not realized before that she was insisting Christian live the same way she was. Doing what I want is my thing. If he wants to feel guilty and worry, that’s his thing. And if, as she had yelled at him, his changing for her led to him expecting her to change, then she would deal with that when the time came. 

 

Back at the house she found him fiercely chopping wood, splitting each piece with way more force than required. When he saw her approach he thunked the ax into the stump and turned to face her, crossing his arms and his face set. She walked up to him, slid under his arms and hugged him tight. 

“I’m so sorry I gave you a hard time about that,” she said. 

He just stood there for a moment, then she felt him tentatively put his arms around her. “Um, OK.” He held her and she felt his head rest on hers. “What was that about?” 

“I don’t know any other way to explain it to you.” 

He pulled back a little to look at her. “I’m still not real sure what you were so mad about.” 

She shrugged. “I don’t know how else to explain that, either. But I am sorry. If you want to hide how much you are drinking, that’s none of my business and I won’t bother you about it again.”

“Huh.” He was silent for a moment but she felt him pull her closer, tucking her up against him. He finally said, “Well, that don’t seem quite right either.” 

She turned her head, resting where she could hear his heartbeat. “You get mad at me cause I keep thinking you are going to disappear like everyone else, but you don’t trust me either.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust.” He pulled back and his blue eyes searched hers. “I don’t trust myself.” 

“I know,” she said. She nestled back against him. “You think you’re going to scare me off. That’s your business, too, I guess. Nothing I can do about it.”

He was quiet for a few moments, and then he said, “You pick the weirdest fucking shit to pick fights about.”

 

And then she back to her usual good-humored self. She laughed and gave Christian a hug, holding tight for a few moments, and then pulled back to look at him, meeting his gaze. “So where are you doing all this secret drinking, anyway?” she asked. 

Christian nodded toward the carriage house. “I keep some bottles in the garage.” 

“Hmm.” She cuddled up to him again. 

He almost asked again, ‘You really don’t mind?’ but she had answered that, and he would just have to wait and see if it was true. He finally believed that she just didn’t hold a grudge - the first few weeks he kept waiting for whatever he did to be thrown back in his face, but now he knew that as far as she was concerned, her anger at him for - what, exactly? Not getting drunk in front of her? He still wasn’t quite sure - was over and wouldn’t come up again. 

Naw, he admitted to himself. I know what this is about. He basically had been lying to her because he didn’t trust her - hiding his drinking because he didn’t believe what she had said about it. And yeah, she was pissed about it. He would have been, if the situation was reversed. 

“I’ve had my walk for today,” she said. “What are you up to?” 

“Your bread oven,” he said, and grinned to see her face light up. “You gotta show me where you want it.” He’d had enough supplies to get started for a week or so, it was time to get going on it. He wondered if the oven would always remind him of the day he caught her dancing naked. 

 

That night Amanda was quiet and clingy when they went to bed, holding him with her head down against his chest. Christian just waited, his arms wrapped around her, stroking her back. 

“Hey,” she finally said.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you remember the tickle rub? When I asked you to just touch me all over? Would you do that again?” 

“I would love to.” She looked up to see that the warm smile on his face matched his voice, so sweet. He seemed eager as he got out of bed and lit the candles they had all over the room, and she enjoyed watching his naked body - they mostly didn’t bother with wearing anything to bed anymore. He came back to bed, eased back the covers and looked at her, up and down. 

“Wow.” There was a set to his jaw for a second, then his gaze softened and he started touching her, fingers trailing slowly over her face, down her arm, up over her breast, down her stomach. Last time she had watched his face, just taking in how intent he was on her. This time she closed her eyes, feeling herself floating in space with the only point of contact with the universe his touch. His hands never left her - as he moved around the bed to reach he kept a hand on her the whole time.   
Every part of her had been touched and seen and cherished and he started again, just as attentive and gentle. Her body was so sensitized and aware, it felt like he was trailing fire, now, and as he brushed the side of her breast and down her side she gasped. When he trailed over her hip and tickled her inner thigh she moaned and found her legs moving further apart. 

When he grazed her inner arm she caught her breath. Her head went back and she started those little gasps when he moved over the sensitive spot on her neck. Her hips started moving, her back arching, and she could feel herself getting warm. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, and she could feel him hard against her thigh. Without opening her eyes she reached for his hand and guided him to start touching her more firmly. Following her lead he ran his hands over her breasts and down her body, and she moaned and pressed against him every inch of the way. 

She took his hand again and guided him between her legs, gasping and arching when he first touched her. He lay down next to her and followed her lead as with touches and moans she showed him what she wanted, to slow down or move forward, touching gently and working up to more. 

She was bucking against him now, she pulled him close and climaxed, rigid, flushed, crying out, shaking. She gasped, “Stop stop,” and he stopped, pulling her close and holding her as her body shuddered. She still felt an ache deep inside and moaned and moved against him, pulling weakly on his arm, but he knew by now what she wanted. 

He rolled her to her back and she spread her legs and then he was sliding into her, filling her up. She just felt it to her core, the wash of feeling over her that she never could describe, feeling so complete with him on her and in her, filling her world. He was moving faster and gasping against her skin and then was thrusting hard while she clung to him, cradling him as he shuddered and released and then finally rested against her. 

After he caught his breath he tried to shift to the side, but she resisted and pulled him closer. “Uh uh.” 

He settled against her. “Wow. You ask for that anytime, baby.” 

“I loved that,” she said. “That was amazing.” His head was resting against her breast and she stroked his hair and back. 

He slid over then and propped on an elbow, looking at her as he rested a hand on her breast. “I love it when you want it right after I make you come. I can feel you coming all around my cock.” 

She caught her breath and trembled from one last aftershock. “Wow. That sounds really hot.” 

“Oh, yeah.” He kissed her, starting soft but then he leaned into her, tasting, exploring, and she closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensation of his mouth soft and then firm on hers. He lifted his head and stroked her face. 

His eyes were warm, and his voice soft and husky. “I’m glad you asked. You can ask me for anything, OK? Trust me to let you know if I don’t want to. I promise I will, alright?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She felt short of breath, looking into those eyes so intent on her. 

“And if you ask for somethin’ and I say no, you’re not going to give me shit about it, right?” he asked. 

“What?” That broke the spell a bit, and she pulled back to look at him. “Of course not. That would be stupid. Why would I do that?” 

He was laughing then and she was wrapped up in his arms. She could still hear him chuckling as she rested her cheek on his chest. “I love - being with you. You are somethin’. You’re right, that would be fucking stupid.” 

She wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. Before, she might have done that to Ryan sometimes, said one thing but meant another, or get upset that he couldn’t read her mind. Things are so different, she thought. No rules are left, we get to make it up. Why keep the shitty parts? 

She was on her back again, his arm draped across her. “Hey, Christian.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you know that you hardly ever ask me for anything?” 

“What?” he said. “Sure I do.” 

“Name something.” 

He was quiet a moment. “I asked if you would go for a drive with me.” 

“You ask if you can do something for me, but you never ask me to do anything for you.” 

“Huh.” He was quiet and she could feel the wheels turning. “I guess not. Oh, I asked if I could get the goddamn fucking water jug. You said no.” 

She grinned at his language. He wasn’t mad - that was just sort of the title of the water jug at this point. “First of all, you again asked if you could do something for me, not for me to do something for you. Second, you didn’t really ask. You just assumed and tried to take it.” 

“All right. Never mind,” he said. She felt the thrill of it, this kind of conversation where she didn’t know what would happen next, the two of them back and forth, and she could just say whatever she wanted to say. 

“Well, do you ever want something and not ask?” she asked. 

“Hmm.” He was quiet again. That was something that surprised her about him and something she loved, that he was so thoughtful. He put thought into things, really considering before answering, taking her questions seriously. 

“No, that don’t happen,” he said finally. “I never think about asking you and then don’t do it. Oh -” he pulled back and looked at her. “I got it. I ask for shit all the time, darlin’. Stuff with sex. I think you enjoy it so much it doesn’t occur to you I’m asking for me.” 

“Like what?” Now THIS is fun, she thought. 

“Eating you out, of course. The reverse cowgirl in the Mustang - that was purely my idea. When you go down on me. The shelf at Target. The hottub. Fuck - every time I touch you?” He was looking into her eyes, his face serious and intent. “Amanda, from that first night, you have given me everything I asked for. You trusted me to help you get over the oral sex thing. Which was amazing, sweetheart. I can’t tell you. . .” 

He paused and took a breath. “I don’t give a fuck about - what else could I even be asking for? Hold the wrench? Make cookies? What’s important to me, the sex and the cooking and listening to my music and being there, you do before I ever ask. You know what I need before I do, sometimes. What have I got to ask for?” 

“Wow.” She felt breathless and stunned, captured by his eyes. His expression softened to a small smile and he lay back down next to her, putting an arm over her. She felt a wave of heat over her body and her heart was pounding. She felt the weight and warmth of his arm on her and his breath on her shoulder. He moved a little, shifted against her, and she felt his skin against hers. 

How long has it been - a month? She thought back as best she could. The days ran together, but it must have been four or five weeks since he walked out of the night into the firelight. It seemed like forever, like he had always been here and the horrible, endless years before had shrunk down to a spot on the horizon, except for moments when the storm swept over them again.     

She turned and buried herself in him, pressing against him and nuzzling into his neck, pressing her face against his skin. He just held her, shifting so she could reach him and touch him and so he could hold her as close as possible. He didn’t say anything, just kissed her head where she was tucked against his chest and then he took a deep breath and she felt him just melt into her. 

His words swirled in her mind. She had been so overwhelmed so many times by how much he gave to her, but to him, she had been there for him, giving him what he needed. Why was there this roar in her head? Why could she barely process it? A thought drifted up. 

Maybe . . . maybe not any woman could have done that. Maybe it matters that it’s me. 

 

The next morning Christian was cuddled awake. She was in his arms, kissing on his neck and shoulders, and running her hands up and down him. 

“Mmmm.” He rolled to his back, still half asleep. 

“No, roll this way.” She tugged on his shoulder, indicating he should roll to his stomach. “I want to give you a rub down.” 

“Mmm - yes, ma’am.” She pulled the pillow out of the way and when he was on his stomach she sat astride him, naked on his bare ass. 

“Wow,” he said, moving up against her. 

She got the lotion and he heard her warm it between her hands, and then her hands were on him, firm and warm up and down his back, working into each muscle, stroking up and down, moving his hair out of the way to work the back of his neck. He felt her lean forward to run her hands up the back of his arms, then again to his back, long strong strokes up that just squeezed any tension out of him. 

It was such an innocent backrub, but at the same time her naked pussy was grinding against his bottom. She didn’t seem to be doing it on purpose. She seemed very intent on her hands on him, but he could feel the skin of her thighs against him, and the warmth and wetness of her, and even the tickle of her hair as she shifted back and forth. 

And knowing she was riding his ass naked - he found himself pushing his growing erection against the bed, but if she noticed him moving under her, she gave no sign. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the back rub, which was thorough and sweet, but the more she moved to reach his arms and hands and work into his scalp, the more sensation there was and the more distracted he was.  

“Darlin’,” he murmured. “This is amazing.” 

“I’m glad,” she said softly, leaning in so she could put more pressure on his back, and incidentally scooting her pelvis down and then bearing down, pressing against the lower part of his rear. 

Fuck, he thought. “Baby, is it OK if I turn over?” 

“Sure,” she said and lifted up a bit, giving him room to flip over to his back. She felt his erection against her leg and looked down, and then grinned. “Wow. Really?”

“I can’t help it, sweetheart. You’re that sexy.” She shifted to center herself over him and then lowered herself, shifting until his cock was right up against her and she caught her breath. He could feel the pressure against her for a moment and then heat and wetness and the tightness of sliding into her. 

“Fuck - you’re that wet already?” he groaned, putting his hands on her hips. 

“I was touching you, wasn’t I?” She paused a moment when he was as deep as he could go, filling her up, and then lifted up, sliding him in and out again, and then was leaning forward to brace herself and go to town, riding him hard, her breasts moving in his face, her hair swaying, eyes closed, teeth set. 

She’s gonna beat me this time, he thought, his heart pounding. She was already flushing and moaning and digging her nails into him, lost in her own world. He slipped a hand between them, letting his thumb rest on her clit, slippery and hot as she moved back and forth, and her moans got more guttural and her head went back and she was coming, clenching him and shaking. He pulled his hand away but grabbed her hips and kept moving in her as she quivered over him.

When she finally collapsed on his chest he just wrapped his arms around her and rolled over, still inside her, and kept going. Hearing her moans, feeling her kisses on his neck and how her pussy clenched around him, another few seconds and he was shaking, filling her up, finally collapsing.

It took a minute for him to come back to himself, and then he was still shaking. He felt stunned. It was always good, but when you fucked every day for weeks, it wasn’t as intense as the first time. But this - 

Finally Amanda pulled back enough to look at him. Her eyes were wide with wonder. “Holy shit,” she said softly. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice just as soft. “What the fuck was that?”

“I dunno. Wow.”  

Whatever was different about this time, it had hit her just as hard. They had certainly done that before, but - he quit trying to figure it out and just pulled her close. She was still trembling, too, and he just held her until they both finally calmed. 

“Wow.” he rolled to his back, she laid on his chest, and he put his arm over her. “See,” he said, “this is what I was talking about last night. I never would have known to ask for a naked backrub and then to get rode hard as hell first thing in the morning, but that was exactly what I wanted.” 

She laughed and he smiled to hear it. He trailed his hand up and down her back. “That was amazing,” he said against her hair. 

“That’s my line.” She propped up to look at him and stroke his hair back. “Christian.” 

“Hmmm?” 

“I like to say your name.” 

He turned sideways so he could see her, laying his head on his arm. He tilted his head a little - she looked . . . 

“You OK, baby?” he asked. She nodded, but looked down. Something was stirred up, but she would tell him when she was ready. He just lay there, looking at her, and reached up to touch her face.

“You are so sweet to me,” she said. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

“Darlin’, what’s wrong?” 

She shook her head, but then sighed and leaned against him. “Can I ask you something about last night?” 

“Sure,” he said, but he was wracking his brain. What happened last night? She asked for touching, then got turned on and they made love. 

She rested her head on him for a few moments, then he felt her shake her head just a little before she looked up at him. “You said what I give you before you ask is sex, cooking, listening to your music, and being there. What did you mean about the cooking?”

He frowned a little. All of that buildup for this? I wonder if there’s another question she’s not asking, he thought. 

“Cooking has always been really important to me, and you kind of gave it back to me. And -” he cradled her face. “How you are about it. You appreciate it so much, and the fact that you cook for me - I dunno. There’s something special about it.” 

“Ok,” she said. She looked more herself, and didn’t look so upset. He leaned in for a kiss and pulled her against him.

 

A few hours later Ama nda was half-heartedly poking through books in the library. Before Christian, she spent hours a day reading, because those then were hours she didn’t have to distract herself or deal with how the world was. Now, if she felt the panic coming on, she went and found Christian. If she was bored, or anxious, or thoughts of her family couldn’t be kept back, she just looked around or took a few steps and there he was, looking at her and reaching for her and filling up every sense and every thought. The big Victorian and Renaissance romance novels lost their appeal when almost every day with him was sexier than anything she could read.

She had almost asked him this morning, about what if it had been someone else he found. She kept playing in her mind what he had said about why he didn’t ask for anything. ‘You have given me everything I’ve asked for.’ She knew he charmed, he said what she wanted to hear, but he didn’t lie. 

She had been content - beyond content, amazed and honored and overwhelmed - to somehow be the one he found. To hope for more than that, to somehow be special and to think that the way he felt toward her was different than he would have felt toward any other woman, seemed unbelievably arrogant. But still, what he said . . . 

I can’t chance it, she thought. If she said ‘What I think is that although I know you care about me and like being with me, if you had met any other woman you would feel the same way about them by now, it’s not really me’ and she saw on his face it was true, it couldn’t be unsaid and he would be different, trying to act like it wasn’t so, so that he wouldn’t hurt her. Of course it’s true, she thought. How could it not be? Why make him lie? 

She felt antsy and restless. She put the book in her hand back and went down the hall to his weight room. She leaned against the wall, out of sight, and smiled as she listened to his breathing and grunts for a few moments before tapping on the open door.   

“Hey.” He looked up and put the bar on the rack. 

“I can wait until you’re done.” She crossed over and sat on the bed. 

He grinned and tilted his head a bit as he watched her lean back against the wall. “Naw, I’m done. What do you need?” 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh - sure.” He stood up and grabbed a towel from a stack on a table and wiped himself off. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong. Can you come with me?” 

He frowned a little but said “Sure,” and followed her down the stairs and hallway to the parlor, stopping by a portable CD player on a shelf. 

“There’s something I used to do before you came, that I don’t really anymore.” She grinned up at him. “Well, two things. I used to run around naked a lot more. But the other one - I used to listen to music all the time. It didn’t feel so lonely with some sound.” 

“OK.” He looked at her, waiting. 

She grimaced. “I just felt weird about it when you first got here, because this is what I listened to most of the time. I wasn’t sure what you would think.” She pushed the button on the CD player and there was a long harmonica note.

He gave that half grin and shook his head. They both listened to the familiar intro, and then ‘So you're tired and you're beat and you worked all week, and you need a place you can let it go,’ the opening words to the first song on Christian’s CD,  _ The House Rules. _

She said, “I mean, you can’t be totally surprised at this point, but I wasn’t sure how weird that would be if it was the first thing you heard. And then we always had something going on, and I wasn’t having so many panic attacks, so I didn’t really think about it.”

He stopped and turned to her, his forehead creased. “Wait - what about the panic attacks?” 

“If it was too quiet, I would sometimes start thinking too much. The music helped. But now you bring me back if I start losing it.” 

He was searching her eyes, now, his attention sharpened. “What do you mean, I bring you back?” 

She shook her head. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I thought about starting to listen to music again, so I wanted to prepare you.”

“It’s fine, darlin’.” He reached out and pulled her close and started moving to the music. “It’ll be fun.” Holding her gaze, smiling, moving her with him, he started singing along to the CD. 

Around 11 o'clock  
When the front door locks  
And the boys start raising the bottle,  
Where the girls do the thing with the Mardi Gras beads  
Yeah you know they're gonna show 'em if they got 'em.  
And no matter what your story  
A good time is mandatory.  
Well rule number 7 says don't touch the women  
But they can grab whatever they want to

On the last line he wrapped his hands around her and pushed his hips against hers. She felt her jaw drop as she watched him, the little head tilt, the naughty grin, the set to his jaw, the growl in his voice that she had seen in so many videos, now directed at her, and how he held her hips close and moved with her to the music. 

“Oh, fuck,” she said, and then he was laughing and missed a few words. A broad grin lit up his face and she could see all his laugh lines. She felt relieved, although she wasn’t sure now why she thought this would bother him. 

The song ended and the next started. “You aren’t as surprised as I thought you’d be,” she said. Just for a second she thought he was hiding a different grin before looking back at her with a warm smile. 

“Well, like you said, I guess I can’t be totally surprised.” 

“What would you have thought if you knew this right away?” she asked.

“I dunno, but it don’t matter. It’s fine, sweetheart. What else you got?” 

“I never did get ahold of  _ Kane _ ,” his first CD that had gone out of production, “and I didn't get my phone playlist on CD before everything shut down, so this is all I have of yours. Here’s what else I have.” 

He sorted through the stacks of CDs she had accumulated and she was so tickled that he softly sang along to most of the songs as they listened to the rest of his CD. She had an eclectic mix and she had grabbed a little bit of everything but heavy metal - musicals, acoustic folk, instrumental and world music, classic rock, and a little country but not much. 

“ _ Alice in Chains _ ? Awesome!” He held up the CD, his grin wide. He glanced at her, then did a double take. ”What?” 

“Dammit. I can never play poker with you. How do you always know?”

He chuckled. “I’m not tellin’, cause then you’ll stop doing it. You do wear your heart on your sleeve, though, darlin’.” He put the CD down and turned squarely to face her. “What?” 

She sighed. “I have listened to it and I like it, but the only reason I have that CD is because I heard it was one of your favorite bands. I found it in Aaron’s room - I wouldn’t have kept it otherwise.” He was still smiling, but she bit her lip. “I think if you had known how obsessed I was with you that night in Nashville you would have gotten right back in your truck and drove off.” 

“Naw, not at all. This is fun.”  _ House Rules _ came to an end and he reached over and popped in out and put in the  _ Alice in Chains _ . “You ain’t even near the worst. You never tracked down where I live and showed up at my house, did you?” He leaned against the shelf, his smile wide and relaxed. 

“I looked up where you lived and where your parents lived, but I never would have shown up.” 

“See?” he said. “Did you send me a dozen letters with pieces of your hair asking me to marry you?” 

“What? No, who . . . I was just quietly obsessed, I wasn’t going to bother you about it.”

“Here’s the other thing, Amanda.” He stood up and his face was more serious. “When we met, you didn’t expect me to be any certain way. Some folks got mighty disappointed when I didn’t live up to expectations. When I wasn’t Eliot, or wasn’t always drinking and partying.” 

“Wow.” I guess so, she thought. If all you knew was  _ Leverage _ , or his music. “I’m glad you’re OK with this.” 

“I don’t know why you were so worried about it.” 

“Me neither, now.” They spent a couple hours listening to music, and she couldn’t stop grinning and felt her heart pound when he swept her up and danced with her around the room. They added it to the list for the next road trip to stop by a music store and raid the CDs, and listening to music and dancing together was added to their routine. 


	19. Chapter 19 - Once I start I cry for days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Christian there, Amanda can finally let herself grieve for her family she lost years ago. 
> 
> And sex in a hammock. It's summarized, but if anyone wants it spelled out, let me know, I'll tackle it!

Chapter 19

   About a week later when Christian awoke she was already gone.  He was eager to get in the garden - they had gotten the seeds in about six weeks ago, a week after getting to Laurel Court, so it would be another month before the corn and tomatoes came in. In the meantime he had summer squash and beans and broccoli and lots of fresh herbs to play with.

He expected to see her in the kitchen, then in the yard. The dogs came running to greet him when he stepped out on the porch so he looked again, but she was not in the hammock and didn’t seem to be anywhere on the grounds.

He frowned. He saw that her van and the little Prius she liked to drive were still there. Up to now neither had left the estate without telling the other, but maybe she had gone for a walk. He called down the basement steps and checked the first floor.

He wasn’t panicked, he thought, but it was strange not knowing where she was. He started on the second floor, checking the art room, the stuffed animal room and library before stopping in the doorway of a pale pink bedroom that he had barely stepped foot in before. His eye was caught by one of her favorite bright blue fuzzy blankets draped on the bed.

He stepped in and there she was, huddled as small as a child in the queen-sized bed. He approached as quietly as he could but she turned toward the door.

“Hi,” he said softly. “You OK?”

“Yeah.”

He started to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want company?”

“No.”

He froze and then stood up again. “Ok. Let me know if you need anything.”

“All right.” She turned away from him toward the wall.

He hesitated and then left, stopping outside the bedroom door. He wanted to go back in, climb in bed, wrap her up in his arms and chase away the shadows. He went downstairs and kept himself busy for the morning, getting something to eat, working in the garden, working out, working on the bread oven, and chopping some wood.

He paused by her room a few times to listen, but as hard as it was he stopped himself from going in to check on her. He had to trust her that she would ask if she needed him, and he had to give her space. By late morning he was in the music room, tuning up. He picked through a few songs, finally settling on _Sever._

 

Before you hit the blues and

Cry yourself to sleep,

Do me a favor and line up your demons

And I'll fight every one.

 

Cause the ghost of your laughter

rattles chains in the night

And the hands that used to warm me

have turned to knives.

Though I ain't the one that cut you

But you leave me here to bleed

When you sever, when you sever.

 

And don't you know the sky ain't fallin', don't you?

Don't you know if it was I'd catch it for you?

Don't you know if I was going to leave by now

I would have done so long ago.

I'm the one still waiting here at home.

 

After Amanda told Christian she didn’t want company and he left, she could hear that he was standing at the bedroom door a moment before he walked away. Her tears welled up again and she wiped them away with the sheet.

Maybe she had dreamed about them, she thought. She couldn’t remember any dreams but she had woken up picturing Ryan and Aaron and Susan as plain as day on that last vacation in Michigan.

They were in kayaks on the lake, the water clear and cold. Susan was in Ryan’s boat. Aaron had splashed Amanda with his paddle and she remembered the shock of cold water before she laughed and splashed him back. Aaron was just learning how to maneuver his boat and Ryan showed him how to spin in one direction, then the other.

She remembered looking out over the sparkling diamonds of the sun on the still lake and seeing a heron land in the distance, listening to her family laughing behind her. Amanda and Aaron had raced back to the beach, and Ryan had gotten out ankle deep in the cold water and pulled the boat up so Susan wouldn’t have to get wet to climb out.   

She wiped away more tears. If she could remember that part without remembering the frantic hours in the hospital, alone, Ryan already gone, trying to find a doctor to help Aaron as he shook with fever.

Or two weeks later, at home with Susan in her arms, desperately wiping her face with cold water because there was nothing else to do and no one left to help, the hospitals overflowing. Sobs racked her now, and she held a pillow tightly as her body shook and tears soaked the covers.

Finally, cried out for the moment, she wrapped her arms around herself and lay still, feeling the soft blanket around her and the tightness in her chest and the pounding in her head.  At some point she realized she was hearing music and got up wrapped in the blanket to follow the sound.

She stood in the doorway of the music room watching Christian play. He was faced away from her and playing _Sever_ in a much slower tempo than she had ever heard it. It was a hard song anyway, but this version gave her chills. His voice was so low and rough she could barely make it the words, but she knew it so well.

He finished the song and sat in silence until she moved and he turned around and saw her standing in the doorway wrapped in her blanket.

“Who is that one about?” she asked.

“Mostly someone Hank knew. Me and him wrote it together.”  He looked down and plucked a few notes. “A little bit of Linda, this girl I dated in L.A. for a while.” He stilled the guitar and turned to look at her, but for once didn’t ask if she was OK.

“I need to get something to eat, and then will you take a drive with me?” she asked.  

“Sure, darlin’.” He put the guitar down and stood up. “Where are we goin’?”  

She turned away. “You’ll see.”

 

She dropped the blanket in the hall and Christian saw she was already dressed as he followed her to the kitchen. His heart ached with the need to gather her up and make it all better, but when he made a move toward her she turned away without meeting his eye.

She got a can of soup from the cupboard and went to put it in a pan on the burner. He reached out for it as she went past. “I’ll get that for you.”

She stopped and looked at him. “No.” He backed off and got something for himself, watching her as she ate. She looked up with a quick smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Will you drive? Let’s take the dogs.”

He drove the truck as she directed, past the little business district with the ice cream shop, through a minute or so of nice two-story colonials.

She directed him to turn, then said, “I forgot. There’s a tree down in the road. We’ll have to go the other way.” Without a word he backed up and followed her directions up around the corner, then into some smaller cape cod style houses, each one right up on the street with steep driveways sloping to the basements. Large trees lined the street and she pointed him to a small brick home at the end of a cul-de-sac.

“This is my house,” she said. He parked in front and she opened the door and let the dogs jump out, then sat and looked at the house. “I haven’t been here in a few years.”  

“You OK?” he finally asked.

“No.”  She sat in silence a few more moments. “I don’t know if I dreamed about them or what, but I couldn’t stop thinking about them this morning.” She sighed and climbed down. “You want to see it?”

“If you want to show me.” He followed her up to the door. There was hardly any front yard, just a driveway the length of a car leading directly to the three front steps of the small porch, paint peeling. Three years worth of leaves and some branches from a large maple littered the driveway and overgrown shrubs choked with poison ivy were against the house.

On the door was another ‘I am alive’ poster. Amanda reached down and picked up the marker attached to a string off the ground. The tape had dried up and it had fallen. She dropped it and opened the door, leading the way in.

She pulled open the burgundy drapes in the living room and Christian first saw the wall covered with framed pictures on either side of a grandfather clock. He stepped up to look closer. There were pictures of both kids from baby pictures to young teens and several studio family portraits of the whole family. In one of the later pictures of Aaron he had spiked purple hair.

There were a couple pictures of just Amanda and Ryan. Ryan had hazel eyes and was a nice-looking man and Amanda had a short pixie cut for a while. In their wedding picture they looked so happy and Amanda looked so young.  

“I haven’t seen any pictures of your family at Laurel Court,” he said.

“I have some albums and stuff. They’re all put away. I hardly took anything from here. I didn’t want anything in my face reminding me all the time.”

“What’s this one?” He pointed at six people in a large blue raft, all laughing while a spray of white water shot up from the back. Amanda was in the middle on the right, her eyes wide and her face lit up with joy.

“Ryan and I went white water rafting in West Virginia a couple times. I think that was the Gauley.” She smiled and he saw her face soften. “That was fun. I loved those trips.”

She didn’t volunteer much as they went through the rest of the house. He tried to take it all in. He was curious but afraid to ask questions, not sure what might open a Pandora’s box and make this harder for her. She led him to her and Ryan’s room and stood looking at the neatly made up bed.  
“I wish we could have cuddled,” she said. “He slept on the couch a lot toward the end, because he couldn’t get to sleep or so I wouldn’t have to wake him him to stop snoring. I got used to it. I wish I hadn’t.”

Christian saw little expression on her face, as if she was reciting something she had read.  She went to the dresser in the corner and rummaged through a cluttered jewelry box.

“Look.” She held something out on her palm. “My wedding rings.”

“Ah, darlin’,” he said softly. He glanced down to see the simple gold band and diamond engagement ring.

“I figured if I ever want them, I know where they are. I don’t need them in my face every day.” She dropped them back in the jewelry box and passed him to go to Susan’s room. He laid his hand on her back as she passed and she gave a small smile and stopped to lean on him for just a moment.

Susan’s room was mint green with sheer white lace curtains that let in lots of light, and there was a box of Bratz dolls on the bed. She picked one up, looked at it and dropped it back.

“I hated these dolls.” She sighed. “Susan had a lot of anxiety. When she was little we had these elaborate bedtime rituals. Forty minutes to get her to sleep, because she was afraid of the door or afraid of the shadows. I used to tell her, ‘Your mind is tricking you. You are safe. Tell yourself, I am safe.’”

She stopped and closed her eyes and he stepped forward to put an arm around her. She turned toward him and he felt her start to lean, almost collapse, into him but then she stood up straight and gently pushed him back. “No. Not yet.” She walked out and headed upstairs before he could ask what she meant.

She opened a door at the top of the stairs, the dogs dashing in and out. “Here’s Aaron’s room. He was going through a phase.”

“Wow,” Christian said.  Since it was the second floor of a Cape Cod, the ceiling sloped into the walls, and the whole thing was painted a dark, deep purple with shiny silver trim on the baseboard and built in cabinets. The room was trashed, unlike the rest of the house. Piles of clothes, dirty dishes and trash were on every surface and in every corner.

“We were picking our battles. He was having a hard time, even before everything happened.” Junk was spilling out of the closet and she rooted through and pulled out a shopping bag.

“He was an artist.” She pulled out some pieces and handed them to Christian. There were lots of pencil and ink drawings of angular, exaggerated people and several large paintings.

“This is good,” Christian said. It was a portrait of a vampire with light streaming from a high diamond shaped window and a dark red cape that swirled into smoke.

Next was what she called her sanctuary and office. It was a small room in the dormer with an oddly sloping ceiling, painted a light peach, with a desk and chair. A low shelf held a tabletop fountain and Japanese sand garden. He grinned a little at the number of candles sitting around. There was a big round papa san chair in the corner with a fluffy white cushion and of course, he thought, a big fuzzy blanket.

The one flat wall was all labeled bookshelves and he stopped to look. The shelves marked gardening, cooking and hobbies were empty, taken to Laurel Court he presumed, but there was shelf after shelf of teaching and curriculum books.

Jack ran in and jumped up in her lap where she sat cuddled in the cozy chair, tucked his feet under himself and sighed, his head on Amanda’s arm.

“This was his favorite spot,” she said. Christian pulled the chair out from the desk and leaned back, watching her. She absently pet the dog and looked around. “They hardly ever came to look for me in here. I could get away a little bit. I hate when I think how much I just wanted some time to myself.”

He wondered how much she was feeling or thinking about any of this, she showed so little emotion or reaction. He finally saw her come to life a little bit when they went out in the yard. As tiny as the front yard was, the backyard was huge, since the lot on the cul-de-sac was shaped like a piece of pie with the house on the very point.

After four years the tall grass of the neglected lawn was dotted with small shrubs and trees. She pointed out where the vegetable garden and flower gardens had been as the dogs raced around.

“Look - there’s hostas. You can tell the deer are gone - they love those. They would look like popsicle stick plants if I didn’t keep the deer spray on them.” There was a small pond about three feet across, clogged with leaves, that had been a trickling fountain.

“This was my other sanctuary. I used to sit out here -” she pointed to a small glider tucked under a maple. “I’d write or just listen to the birds.” She wandered over, pushing through the weeds, and pulled off some of the branches. “Sometimes Ryan would come out, but usually I was by myself.”

She didn’t look at him but reached for his hand as he came up beside her. “I thought I was going to cry some more. Usually once I start I cry for days.”

“Ah, darlin’.” He felt so helpless in the face of her cold grief. He stepped up behind her and she leaned back against him for a moment, then she turned toward him, grabbing his shirt and burying her head on his chest and the tears started. He wrapped his arms around her and braced himself as she collapsed against him, sobs shaking her. After a minute or so he reached down with one hand and cleared the debris from the glider and sat with her, holding her against him as she cried.  

 

Amanda felt her head pounding and her throat raw as the sobs finally subsided. She wasn’t sure how long it had lasted, letting the grief wash over her. Before he came, she never would have let this happen. She had to fight it and not let herself feel it or she would not come back. But now, she had an anchor. She didn’t have to try to stuff it away, only dealing with what she had to before shutting down again.

One strong arm was around her back, the other cradling her head. They had sat down at some point and he was leaning back with her pulled up close against him. She could feel his chest moving with each breath and felt his head resting on hers. She took a long, ragged breath and then another and felt his hand, wide and warm, move on her back.

She could hear the birdsong, and the pant of one of the dogs at their feet, and the wind in the tree above them. There was no traffic noise, or yelling from apartment building behind her yard, or loud music from the neighbors.

She took another deep breath and shifted against him. “I got your shirt all wet,” she said, her voice shaky.

“It’s OK.”

She tried to smooth it out - she had gripped it so tightly it was twisted and wrinkled. “I feel a lot better.” She sighed again and wrapped her arm around his waist.

“I’m glad.” His voice was warm and soft and his arms firm.

“I never let it get that bad all at once before. I’d hold it in and it would go on for days.”

He kissed her head. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

“I know.” Tears welled up again, but normal tears. “I miss them. I didn’t appreciate it when I had them. It seemed so hard then.” She shook her head.

“I know, baby.”

Finally, calm, she was ready to leave. She led him out through the gate instead of the house. She didn’t know if she would ever go into her house again.

 

Amanda had a shaky few days, but Christian was right there. Tears welled up a few more times and within moments she was in his arms. The second day after the visit to her house, on the merest suggestion from her, he decided a road trip was in order and took her up to Kenwood Mall. She loaded up at a upscale bath store, Crabtree and Evelyn, and modeled fancy evening gowns for him at Cinderella.

She appeared in a long, midnight blue sleeveless gown, clinging to her curves and gathered in front with rhinestones. He grinned. “Wow.”

“I love this one.” She swirled around.

After a fun, distracting day they decided not to sleep over and headed home. He made love to her that night, sweet and gentle and attentive. She lay in his arms, complete and sated.

“That was wonderful,” she sighed. He kissed her shoulder. “Can I help you with anything?” She ran her hand down his back.

“No, darlin’, I’m good. I wanted to take care of you tonight.”

“I’m fine, Christian.” She reached up and cradled his cheek. “You don’t have to babysit me anymore. You got me through it a lot better than before.”

“I was just worried about you.”

“You take such good care of me.” She kissed him. “I’m fine. You got me through it.”

 

Over the next week or so he found her in tears a little more often than before, but also saw she was happier in between. He seemed to be watching for another breakdown, though, and soon got on her nerves. Three or four days after the visit to her house, she finally snapped at him.

“Hey, sweetheart. You ok?” There he was again, next to the hammock, just because she closed her book and closed her eyes.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“Just makin’ sure.” He sat by her, smiled and took her hand, but she didn’t smile back.

“Christian, back off.” She swung her legs down and pulled her hand away. “I’m fine. I’m so glad you were there. It made it a lot easier. But I’m not going to die. How do you think I handled it before you showed up?”

“I’m sorry, baby, I don’t -”

“Just go back to normal, OK? I don’t like this, you acting like I’m gonna fall apart any second.”

His eyes narrowed to match her glare for a moment, then he took a deep breath and he softened. “Right.” He took another breath. “You got it.” She had almost wanted a fight and felt her heart pound, ready to go at it when she saw his narrowed eyes and set jaw, before he backed down.

“Fine, then.” She crossed her arms, not softening her scowl.

He shook his head, not able to hide a little grin. “I know you aren’t going to fall apart. I just like taking care of you.”

“Well, cut it out,” she said. She knew she was being childish but didn’t care.

“No.”

“What?” She frowned at him.

“I don’t want to. What are you going to do if I don’t?” His grin through set teeth, that tilt to his head and gleam in his eye had her heart pounding for a different reason. He slid one arm around her waist and the other over her thigh, working his way up. “What if I want to take care of you right now, what are you going to do about it?” He cradled her head for a kiss and slid his hand up to caress her breast.

“Um . . .” She gasped when he worked around to her neck and she felt a little nip. “You’d be in big trouble,” she said weakly, reaching up to cradle his head. He reached down, scooped up her legs, deposited her in the middle of the hammock, and lay next to her, almost on her.

The ropes gave beneath their weight so he wasn’t too heavy as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He braced his elbows by her head, twining his fingers in the ropes. “You really want me to stop taking care of you?” he asked softly, searching her face with a smile but with a little bit of an edge. She was a little afraid to tease any more - he was ornery enough to take her at her word, and stop making her come, or stop doing all the things around the estate she had gotten used to.

“No.” She sighed against him, shaking her head at the pleased grin. “Just stop . . . hovering so much.”

“Yeah, baby. I’m sorry.” He was softer now and kissed her sweet and slow. “I’m glad you told me.” He kissed her again, harder, setting the hammock rocking. “Since you decided it’s fuckin’ OK for me to take care of you …” He slid his hand down, sliding her shorts out of the way. Even though it was the first time on a hammock for both of them they made the best of it.

 

It was a beautiful day. Amanda was on a ladder up in an oak tree in the meadow next to the house. She had been busy here for a while and the last she had seen of Christian was at breakfast.

“There you are.” He peered up through the leaves. She had been so intent on her project she hadn’t heard him approach. “What are you doing?”

“A yard weaving,” she said. “These ropes are going to be a loom. I’ll tie them to a big stick at the bottom, and then when I find interesting vines or branches or material or whatever, I’ll weave it in. Eventually it’ll be all filled up.”

“Huh.” He frowned as he watched her take another step up the ladder and reach for the branch just over her head. “Why?”  
“You got something better for me to do?” She tossed the end of the rope over and caught it and tried to tie a knot without letting go of the ladder.

“Anything?” he said helpfully.

“Go away. I’m not asking you to do it.”

“Do you want any help?”

She stopped to consider and looked around. “Well, you could hold the ladder for me.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He stepped up and held it firmly. “Good girl. You are going to fucking drive me crazy before you kill yourself.”

“I haven’t yet.” She gave up trying to hold on and balanced a thigh against the top of the ladder as she reached out to tie the rope to the branch.

He sighed. “When someone says ‘You’re going to kill yourself’ and you say ‘I haven’t yet,’ that’s not the comfort you seem to think it is.”

She didn’t answer, just cussed when the rope slipped away from her. She caught it and threw it over the branch again.

“We have a deal,” he reminded her. “I won’t get taken by aliens if you don’t kill yourself doing something stupid.”

“I’m not -” She held the branch as she turned and grinned at him. “I was going to say I’m not doing anything stupid, but I don’t think I can defend that position. I won’t kill myself, though.” She glanced at the ground. “At most I’ll break a leg.”

“Godda -” he stopped and took a breath. “Amanda, can I help?”

She looked again at the ropes and the tree. “Yeah. I’m having some trouble here. That would be great.”

“All right, good girl.” She rolled her eyes but let it go. “Can I get up there and do that for ya?”

“How is that safer than me doing it?”

“Because you don’t think, Amanda!” he yelled. “You don’t think things through! You just jump in without any kind of fucking plan, and you’re going to get hurt.”

She turned and looked at him. His hands were clenched, eyes narrow. He looked so angry. He’s afraid, she thought. “Ok. Help me think it through, then.”

He took big breath. “Fine. Come down, first.” She climbed down. “Thank you. Now, tell me what you are trying to do.”

She described her vision. She would have a couple dozen lengths of one-inch rope hanging from the tree, evenly spaced a couple inches apart, and anchored at the bottom. Then she would weave material, vines, grasses, anything long and flexible, maybe making patterns.

“I used to weave baskets, but I’m bored with that. I want to weave something big. I’ll end up with something like an art installation. It’s going to be very cool. And it meets my main criteria for a project - it takes no actual talent, and it will take forever if I make it big enough.”

He was shaking his head, but grinning. “God, you’re crazy. Fine, let’s figure this out.” He scanned the tree. “You picked a really high branch.”

“I want it big.”

“All right.” He looked again and picked up the rope and tested it. “It looked like the main problem was getting enough support to get your hands free to tie the knot.”

“Yeah, that was the main problem right then.”

He shot her a look, but he was half-grinning and in problem-solving mode, not angry. “Huh.” He walked around the tree. “What if we do the knots down here -” He tied a loop in the end of the rope. “Then when you get up there, all you have to do is slide it through.” He slid the end through the little loop, holding the bigger loop over his arm like the branch.

“Oh, perfect! That will be great!” She clapped her hands.

“Do you know how to tie a good knot?” he asked.

“Nope.”

He showed her how to do the simple knot. “Now, you tie the loops and toss ‘em up to me, and I’ll put ‘em up.” He couldn’t hide the grin as he looked to see if she would buy that.

“Ok,” she said.

His eyes widened in surprise for a second and then he nodded in approval. “Good girl.”

“And you can stop saying ‘good girl,’ by the way.”

It took about an hour to get it all set up and they got in a rhythm, her tying the knots and tossing them to him, and he followed her instructions on where to put them. When he got the last one on and climbed down, a wide curtain of ropes hung down about eight feet to the ground.

“Thank you!” She came forward for a hug. “That went a lot better. It looks better, too, than what I was doing. I can do the bottom the same way.”

“Thank you for letting me help you out there.”

“Well,” she said, “I figure as long as you’re going to be around . . .”

His face lit up and he scooped her up for a hug. “Yes, ma’am!”   


	20. Chapter 20 - I need to know about last night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His worst fear finally happens - he loses control. Does he lose more than that?

Several days later she found him upstairs. “Christian! Look!” She stepped into the sky blue bedroom down by the bathroom and held out a bowl. “Strawberries!” 

He looked up. He had moved a music stand, a couple guitars and a drum into the room a few days ago. He was surrounded by papers and a few notebooks. “I’ll get some later.”

“They’re really good. Here.” She held one out to him. 

“Later, babe. I’m fine.” He looked down at his guitar. 

“They’re so juicy. We have a lot - maybe we’ll make shortcake.” She stepped up and laid a hand on his arm. 

“Goddammit, Amanda, I’m in the middle of something.” He jerked his arm away. “What do you want?” 

“Um, nothing.” She felt stunned. “Just strawberries. I’ll see you later.” He didn’t look up as she left. 

She stopped outside the door, out of sight, leaned on the wall and took a deep breath. He had been a little moody for a day or so, but he had never snapped at her like that, out of the blue. She was shaking a little and closed her eyes. He had twice said no, she thought, and I didn’t listen. He just wants some space. It’s okay.

She was putting cookies on a pan to go in the solar oven a few hours later when he stepped into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry about that before.” He leaned past her to snag some oatmeal cookie dough. “I’ve just been on edge.” 

“That’s OK. Anything I can do?” 

“Naw.” He turned away and she reached out and caught his hand. He hesitated as if he would pull away, then gave in to her gentle tug and she settled in his arms, leaning back on the counter. 

“I’m here if you need me.” she said softly. 

“I know.” But he was standing upright, in her arms but not holding her. 

“You were there for me. If you can stand it, I want to be there for you.”

He finally softened, leaning on her and resting his head on hers. “I know,” he said again. “Thanks, sweetheart.” It was only a moment, though, before he pulled back. He met her gaze but his smile did not reach his eyes before he stepped away and headed out the door. 

It was after dinner and dark when she found him in the blue bedroom again, picking through music. An empty scotch bottle was on the desk and a half full one on the floor at his feet.  

“Hey,” she said. “You want company?”

He didn’t answer at first, looking down and picking at the guitar. “I’m gonna be up pretty late,” he said finally. “Why don’t you go on.”  

She started to protest, to say she didn’t mind and could she help, but stopped. Her heart ached watching him, all closed up. Usually when he was scared he got mad. This was different.  

“Ok,” she said finally. She couldn’t help saying again, “I’m here if you need me.” 

He nodded but didn’t look up as she left. 

Hours later she woke up with a start to the bed shaking as Christian climbed in. “What’s going on? Oh - did you get a lot done?” 

“Naw. Iss shit.”  He crawled under the covers next to her and curled up against her back. She could smell the whiskey on him.  “All fucked up.”  

“I’m sorry, baby.” She started to turn to face him, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. She scooted back to nestle in, then jumped when he slid his hand up and grabbed her breast.   

“Careful there,” she said.   

“Hey, darlin’.”  He scooted closer, not letting go. “You’re sho pretty.”  

“You’ve had a lot to drink, haven’t you?” She jumped again when he squeezed hard enough to be uncomfortable.   

“Yep, but you don’t care, do you?”  He kissed her neck, rough and biting, and she winced.   

“I don’t care what you drink, but I do care about being grabbed like this.” She pried his hand off her breast. 

“Naw, you like it. You been wantin’ me to do this.” He grabbed her again and started to push her to her back. 

She felt the first stirrings of panic. “Christian, stop.” His eyes were unfocused as he held her shoulder and pushed her back on the bed. “Let go,” she said, heart pounding, and tried to push him off, but it was as if she hadn’t spoken. 

He had her pinned before he grew heavy and his grip loosened as he drifted off. She managed to push him up and scoot away before he roused enough to put an arm around her waist and pulled her back.

“Aw, come on, sweetheart!  You never tell me no.” He slid his hand up and grabbed at her breast again. 

“First time for everything. Christian, get off. Seriously.”

“Naw. You like it.” He drifted off and his weight settled on her again and she shifted him up and moved away. Her heart was pounding harder now. If he were looking at her and paying attention it would be different, but this was scary. He reached out and snatched her hand, pulling her back, and the odd angle twisted her arm just a little. 

“Ouch - that hurt,” she said. He didn’t even pause, just kept pulling. Ok, now she was worried. If he didn’t even notice or hesitate when she said she was hurt, this could get bad.  As he pulled her up against him she brought her elbow up hard behind her. He grunted when she made contact with his jaw and it jarred him enough that she could finally slide away and off the bed.  

She was breathing hard, heart pounding, hands tingling from the adrenaline. “Christian, get out.”

He rolled to the edge of the bed.“Naw, you said I a’sleep in here!” He swung himself up and swiped at her. He was faster than she expected but she managed to jump back out of the way and headed for the door.  

“You stay here, then. I’ll sleep somewhere else.” She heard him call after her but she ran until she got to the pink bedroom and locked the door behind her. She listened, breathless, at the door for a moment but didn’t hear any sign of pursuit and assumed he had passed out. 

She sat on the bed and pulled the covers around her, hugging her knees.  Her heart was still pounding and she could feel the prickle of adrenalin in her hands. She could feel a cold familiar knot settle in her chest. That was bad, she thought. 

She always felt safe with him because he was so freaked out if he thought he had hurt her or scared her or crossed a line. She knew her sense of self-preservation was off - she just shut down, and sometimes she could tell afterwards that a normal person would have reacted differently. If he was out of whack, too, then what? 

He warned me, she thought. This is what he was so afraid of. He wouldn’t have intentionally hurt her. She was very sure he wasn’t going to start slapping or beating her. But if he decided to have sex whether she wanted to or not, there would not have been much she could do about it. 

It hadn’t even been close to that, she told herself. Normally, absolutely not, but he wasn’t himself. How much did it take to get him that drunk?  She was pretty sure, too, that with all he’d taught her she would have been able to get away, especially when he was this wasted.  

She put her head on her knees and took a deep breath. She knew she needed to sort out how she felt about this before she saw him. Her pounding heart was calming but she could still feel the rush of excitement and fear and something else - exhilaration?  Whatever it was, it felt like being alive and awake, ready for anything. Her senses had felt heightened for those few moments while she processed what was going on and her mind sorted through all the options and what she should do. 

Was she angry at him? She stopped to consider, looking at the emotions still coursing through her. No, she decided. He had gotten drunk and grabbed her, it wasn’t the end of the world. If he had hurt me, he wouldn’t have meant to. She frowned even as the words crossed her mind. If someone said that to me, to justify staying with someone, I’d want to smack them myself. 

No, she thought. I’m not judging this by before. The fact that both of them weren’t insane, that they were functional at all, was unbelievable. So, no, she wasn’t angry. But it was as if she should be mad. There was a thought that she was supposed to be angry and hurt and scared and he should feel bad and she should make sure this never happened again. 

She finally felt calm enough to climb under the covers, pulling them up to her chin. She wondered how he would react if she freaked out about this. He would already be very upset, she was sure. He would wake up assuming she was leaving or kicking him out. She had made such a big deal about his drinking being none of her business and that she would not tell him what to do.

He doesn’t believe me anyway, she thought. If she reacted badly to this, he would take whatever she dished out. Whatever she said he would accept, and blame himself worse than she ever would. He might not ever believe her or trust her again, though, and he might hide part of himself from her for the rest of their lives.

She thought of how many times he had looked at her, right to the soul, and how he touched her, so tuned in and responsive and almost reverent. He had clung to her, shaking at the thought of being alone again. She remembered his voice saying, ‘You are always there for me, no matter what I need,’ and felt a shiver. She wondered how many times and with how many women he had been told he needed to change, and that what he wanted and needed was less important than what the people around him wanted.   

The window was just starting to lighten with the coming sunrise. She wasn’t getting back to sleep so she got up and went to check on him. He was sound asleep, sprawled on the bed. She covered him up, stopping to stroke his hair, then got some Tylenol and a bottle of water to leave by the bed.  

She was rarely up this early and turned on lanterns as she passed through the house. The dogs stretched and came trotting over from their bed to greet her. 

“Hi, boys. Who’s a good boy? Do you want something? Do you want a treat?” They ran over to the treat box, accepted their Milk Bones, then Amanda got something to eat, grabbed a jacket and they headed out. She had thought about going to the gazebo to watch the sunrise, but it was too cool to sit so she took the path that Christian was keeping cut for her. Everywhere she went there were reminders of Christian and the time she spent with him. 

The gardens were so neat and the vegetables were doing well, much further along than if it had been on her own haphazard time schedule. Firewood was split and stacked, filling the porch. She stopped and swung the hammock - she had convinced him to relax with her there a few times now. They had made love in the little gazebo just once, when he was teasing her out of her meditation. 

She smiled as she put the downspout from the rain barrel into the hot tub to fill up again from their last soak, which had turned into a splashing match and lovemaking on the sodden ground, which meant another dip in the pool.  She felt a shiver that wasn’t from the cool morning breeze as she stood on the porch and looked out over the estate. She didn’t know if she would be able to stand it at Laurel Court with all these reminders of him if he left. 

She peeked in on him when she went back in the house - he was in the same place she had left him. She was too antsy to read so she ended up in the art room, working with modeling clay. It was an hour or two later and she was experimenting with how to make a shape tall and curvy without falling over when she heard movement in the hall and went to see. 

“Hi. How do you feel?” He just groaned and went past her into the bathroom. She waited a few moments and then went back to her clay. She felt calm but alert, and she enjoyed not knowing exactly what was going to happen next. She heard the bathroom door open and then he was standing in the doorway. 

“Thanks for the water and Tylenol.” His voice was rough. 

“Sure. How do you feel?” She wiped her hands and turned to him. 

“Like shit.” He rubbed his forehead and went to the sofa in the corner, more collapsing than sitting, his eyes closed and head back.   

She went and sat next to him. “Do you need anything?”  

He shook his head, then winced and put his hand to his forehead. “Fuck.” She just waited, watching him. His face was drawn and tired and his eyes were bloodshot when he finally turned to look at her. “Amanda, I’m sorry about last night.” 

She shrugged. “No harm done.” 

He looked at her another moment. “Seriously?” He looked away and shook his head, more carefully this time.

“Yep. What do you remember?” She so wanted to reach out to him, take his hand, cradle his head against her. She clasped her hands together in her lap.

“Huh. Oh, I remember. I was working on this song me and Steve had started. I just kept thinking I really needed him here. It just struck me, I’m never gonna write with anyone again. Him, Hank -” His voice broke and he stopped to drink from the water bottle he had brought in with him. 

“This is it. There’s just . . . nothing.” He closed his eyes again and a scowl deepened the furrows on his forehead. “Then I came in the bedroom and grabbed you, and you told me to stop and I didn’t, and you had to run away from me.”  

He looked at her again and the pain in his eyes made her swallow past a lump in her throat before she could reply. “Yep, you got drunk and grabbed my boob.” She shrugged as if it was the most inconsequential matter in the world. “Like I said, no harm done.”  He looked away and rubbed his face with his hand. His scowl and the deep lines on his face did not ease.

“Christian, as far as I’m concerned we’re fine.You got drunk, which you know I don’t care about.”  He still didn’t answer, looking away with his jaw set. 

“I’m curious,” she said.  “What would have been the reaction if that had happened before?  Storming out and yelling and crying and interventions and exorcisms?” 

She was glad to hear a small chuckle. “Yeah, something like that.” He took another drink of water and leaned back and she finally saw some of the tension in his body ease. 

“Were you afraid this was the one to chase me off?” she asked. He just shrugged, still not meeting her gaze. 

“What do you need?” she asked. “Do you want me to heat up some water for you, you can get cleaned up?” 

“Sure.” He finally turned and gave her a small, wan smile. “That’d be nice.” 

“All right. When you’re ready for something to eat, let me know.”  

He was quiet most of the day, and took a long nap in the afternoon. By early evening she was out tending her baby orchard, weeding and mulching the little fruit trees. She looked up as Christian approached. He didn’t look much better than he had that morning. 

“Hey,” she said. “How do you feel?” 

“I need to know how you are OK with what happened last night.” 

“What?” 

“I need to know,” he repeated, he jaw tight and his words clipped, “how you are OK with last night.” 

“Um . . .” She dropped the weeds in her hand. “I don’t know. Let’s go up to the house, we’ll talk.” She stepped up to give him a hug, but he was stiff and unyielding against her. He did let her take his hand, though, as they headed for the house. 

They settled on the leather couch in the parlor. He pulled his hand away and glanced at her once, his gaze hard, then looked over her shoulder as he waited. 

She sighed. “Christian, I guess I don’t understand the question. You know I don’t care about you getting drunk.” 

His mouth tightened and his look was sharp. “I grabbed you,” he said, slowly and carefully, his voice low and rough. “You told me to stop and I didn’t. I grabbed you again. I didn’t leave when you asked. I said - I think - ‘No, you like this.’” He stopped and looked away, his jaw working. “You had to  _ hit me _ -” he rubbed his jaw where her elbow had connected - “to get me to turn you loose. How are you fucking OK with that?” 

Her heart was pounding. He was so angry. She felt like she was sitting next to a coiled snake. 

“Sweetie, I don’t -” She stopped and took a breath at his glare. “OK. You were having a really hard day. I don’t know how you’ve held it together as much as you have. You lost so much, and you never let it out. I wish I could be there for you, but you have to deal with it your way. If you finally drank enough to let some of out, I am not going to freak out about it.”

He closed his eyes and his head was down. “That’s . . . that’s not what I asked.” 

“Oh, baby.” Her heart ached, he was in so much pain. “Can I touch you?” 

He looked up, startled. “What?” 

“Can I come sit next to you?” 

“What? Yes. What are you talking about?”

She scooted over and pressed her leg against his and twined his fingers through hers. He didn’t ease - if anything, he stiffened up even more. 

“Now, what are you asking me?”

“Goddammit!” He pulled his hand away, but didn’t move his leg away from hers. “Amanda, for fuck’s sake.” He gave a hard sigh.  “What if you hadn’t been able to get away from me last night?” 

“You mean if we had sex?” 

“Fuck you! Yes, after you told me no, if I kept ahold of you and did it anyway.” 

“Oh, sweetie.” She so wanted to get ahold of him, wrap him up in her arms. “It wouldn’t have been rape. I don’t know exactly, but if you needed me that much I’d be there for you.” 

“Goddammit. That’s bullshit.” 

“No, listen.” She grabbed his hand and didn’t let go when he tried to pull away. “First of all, I’ve been getting self-defense lessons from the best for what, a month? If I couldn’t get all the way away, I’d be able to knock some sense into you, especially when you’re that drunk. You’d at least have some scars to show for it, and that would have sobered you up enough to back off. And if you hadn’t been that drunk, it wouldn’t have happened. Unless you started hitting me and punching me, I’m pretty confident you couldn’t put it in if I really didn’t want you to.”

“No, I’d never . . .” he said. 

“I know. Christian, you don’t lose control. I don’t know why you think you do.”  

She waited a moment, but he didn’t respond. “If it had happened,” she continued, “it would have been because I wanted it to. You needed to connect and be close, and make sure you were alive. You have pulled me out of the shitstorm so many times - I would love to do that for you.” 

I wish I had stayed, she thought. She didn’t say it, though. She thought that would upset him so much who knows what he would do. 

“Christian.” I love you, she thought. He finally turned to look at her, some of the pain finally showing through the anger. “You don’t believe me at all, do you?” 

He gave a short laugh. “No, I guess I don’t.” 

“Well, what did you think was going on with me?” 

He leaned back with a sigh. “I thought that once you thought about it and realized I almost forced you, you’d hate me forever.” 

“Oh my God.” Her hand covered her mouth. “Oh, baby. Come here. I need to get my hands on you.” She put her arms around him and he allowed her to pull him close. “Sweetheart, that will never happen, ok?” She stroked his hair. “Here’s the worst case scenario. Something gets out of control, something happens that’s not what I wanted right then. What that would mean to me is that we need better communication.” She shook her head against his. “Christian, really? I had to beg you to take me to bed. You could hardly touch me without checking. You still check almost every time you touch me. I’ve begged you to hold me down! You’re not going to suddenly violate all the boundaries and chase me off.”

He pulled back and looked at her. The anger and pain had faded, but she couldn’t read his expression. “You mean all this?” he asked finally.

“Yes.” 

“All right.” 

“All right?” 

“Yeah.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close. “All right. I got it. You’re not going anywhere.” 

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” 

“Darlin’, I believe you. I just don’t understand it.”  

“Good enough.” Her heart was still pounding as she cuddled into him. She felt like she had just talked them both down from a cliff. 

 

He was still wary for a few days, watching her. She wanted to take care of him, coddle him like he did for her after her bad day with the dream and visit to her house. He seemed as suspicious of being taken care of as he did of being left. 

She stopped to see him in his workshop. “You look busy. Do you want me to bring some lunch over for you?” 

“Why? I can get my own lunch.” 

That night she said, “I’d love to give you a rub down.” 

“No, you don’t have to.” 

Finally she realized he just needed to know nothing had changed between them and went back to her usual behavior as best she could, teasing him and doing her own thing and enjoying being with him when they were together. 

It was after dinner, barely dark, and she was in the art room cutting wide strips of cloth for her yard weaving. She looked up and smiled when he stopped and leaned in the doorway. 

“Hey. What’ve you been up to?” 

He shrugged. “Going over the plans again for the bread oven. It’s almost done, but I gotta make sure the draft for the fire is going to work right.” 

“Thank you! I’m excited about that.” He smiled a little. She glanced up again, but he just leaned in the doorframe, thumbs hooked at his waist, watching her, his face serious. It reminded her of how he had waited in the doorway of the bedroom their first night together at Laurel Court. 

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“Naw.” 

She pulled out a bolt of a bright blue aztec pattern material and started cutting, glancing up at him again. She should be used to it by now, how he just looked at her sometimes. 

“Can we sit a minute?” he finally asked. 

“Sure.” She dropped the scissors and material and he stood up and reached for her as she got to him.

He guided her away from the daybed, toward one of the uncomfortable formal loveseats they hardly ever used. She reached for his hand but he pulled away, putting his head back, eyes closed, and running both hands through his hair. She took a deep breath and put her hands in her lap, waiting. 

“Alright.” He sat up and looked at her. “So somethin’ like what happened the other night has happened twice before in my life. I was drunk, the girl was drunk, it went too far. Not that I . . .” He swallowed hard. “About as far as the other night. Well, a little farther.” He looked away. “One girl, we kinda pretended it never happened, but we broke up right after that. The other girl - she never talked to me again. And she told a bunch of our friends what I’d done.” He was talking faster now, trying to get it out. “She was hurt real bad. Not physically - I’ve never done that. But she trusted me.” 

“Oh, baby.” She started to reach for him but he pulled away again. 

“So . . .” He finally turned to look at her, his jaw set. 

“I’m still speaking to you, and I’m not pretending it didn’t happen.” She couldn’t help it, she reached for his hand and wrapped her fingers around his. “You still didn’t run me off. You’ll have to try harder than that.”

He shook his head. “Alright.” The tension in his face didn’t ease, but he finally squeezed her hand back. “You wanna go on to bed?” 

“Well, yeah.” She felt a wave of relief. “I’d like that a lot.”   

  
  



	21. Chapter 21 - Keeping the House Clean is Always Mom's Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So how does that actually work, being the last two people on earth? Would you ever clean the house?

About a week later, two months or so since they’d gotten to Laurel Court, Christian found her coming up from the basement stairs with a full plastic bin. “Hey, there you are.” he said. “What are you up to?” 

“Cleaning day!” she said. 

Cleaning day?” 

“Yep. Three times a year, whether it needs it or not.” She dropped the bin on the table and started pulling out spray bottles, rags, and brushes. 

He sighed. He had planned to work in the garage, but that could wait. “What do you need me to do?”

“Whatever you want.” She headed to the cook shack to put a big pan of water on a burner and he followed her. 

“I meant, what do you want me to work on?” 

“And I mean, do whatever you want.” She grabbed her bin on the way back through the kitchen and he followed her down to the parlor. She looked around, then sprayed a cloth with something and started wiping down shelves, moving efficiently from one to the next. 

“Darlin’, I’d be glad to help.” 

“Great, do that then.” She was already onto the next cabinet and he could see the dust flying in the air.  

“Well, where do you want me to start?” 

“What? I don’t care. Do what you want.” She shot him an irritated look without breaking stride and moved to the next piece. 

He frowned. She never looked at him like that. “Goddammit, Amanda.” 

“Fuck you, Christian.” 

What the hell - she just kept working, but he could see from her movements she was getting irritated. He was only trying to help . . . . oh.

He took a deep breath. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

She was already wiping down the third or fourth shelf, moving things and straightening as she went, while he stood around with his thumb up his ass. “Can you help me understand what is going on here?” 

“Sure.” She kept moving but grinned at him and her good mood was back, just like that. “You and I live like pigs.” She gestured to the room. “I usually don’t feel like cleaning, so of course I don’t. I’m careful enough with food to not get sick, but otherwise, screw it. Once in a while I get in a mood to clean it up some, so I do, until I get bored and quit. 

“You’re an adult, if you want to clean you can look around as well as I can and see what needs to be done. I’m not going to give you a list of chores or tell you want to do.” She moved to the next shelf. “The bathrooms are even worse.” 

“Huh.” He looked around. He hadn’t noticed, but it really was bad. Everything was covered with dust and dog hair, leaves and dirt were tracked all over the fancy carpets, and there was clutter everywhere, heaped high on every surface. Clothes and books and gardening tools and just random crap was piled in corners. 

As he thought about it he realized he did sort of clean up after himself in the kitchen but never paid attention elsewhere. Before, when he lived alone he had a housekeeper a few times a month, and when he lived with someone else he attended to whatever she fussed about. Amanda didn’t fuss.

He looked up and saw that she was watching him. “So, here’s why I was being a bitch about it,” she said. She dropped her rag and came over to him, leaning on the couch next to him. “Before, keeping the house clean is always mom’s job, right? Even if she’s working full time, or whatever. The rest of the family might ‘help’, if they have to or we get crazy enough. I give out jobs, then complain when they don’t do it. 

“So I guess for me,” she continued, “if I give you jobs when I’m the one who wants the house clean, then it feels like I’m managing it, or you have to answer to me, or I have to check up on you, or, I don’t know, I’m the mom again. I’m just not doing it.” 

“Got it.” Such weird shit she picks to have a fight about, he thought.

“So do what you want. If you feel like cleaning a nasty bathroom, do it. If not, don’t.” 

“And if I don’t . . .” 

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus. What if you don’t?” 

He turned to face her. “If I don’t help, am I gonna catch shit about it later?” 

“Oh!” Her face lightened and her scowl was gone. “No, of course not. Go hunting all day or whatever, I don’t care.” She chuckled. “This isn’t a trap. I really am doing what I want to do. There’s a lot of satisfaction in getting things nice once in a while, if you don’t have to.” She took his hand and twined her fingers in his. “If I need your help, I’ll be really clear, and you can say yes or no. OK?”

“Hmm. Alright.”

She laughed at his expression. “Do you not believe me?”

“Huh.” He thought about it. “Well, I guess I don’t. That’s funny.”

“Well, you can do one thing for me if you feel like it.” 

“Yeah?” Here it comes, he thought, but at the same time he felt pleased that she was asking him for something.

“Can you make me something to eat later? I’m going to just have protein bars all day so I can keep moving, but it would be nice to stop and have a hot lunch.” 

“I’d love to! You got it.”

“If you decide to go out, don’t worry about coming back for that,” she said. “But if you’re around and you feel like it, that would be great.”

“No, baby, I’ll be here,” he said. “I’d be glad to.” 

“Thanks.”

Her hand was still in his and he caught her other hand and slowly pulled her up against him, keeping his gaze on her, until she was leaning on him with her arms around his neck and he was holding her close. She smiled as she settled against him and his eyes searched her face and then he leaned in to give her a kiss. 

He took his time, soft and exploring, moving on her, a little firmer and soft again, and felt his pulse speed up when her hands tangled in his hair and he heard that little whimper in her throat. 

“Mmm.” She smiled when he pulled back. “That’s nice.” 

All right. Have fun, tiger.” He didn’t want to turn her loose but thought she might be a little irritated if he kept after her now, when she had something she wanted to get done. He gave her another kiss and let go and she smiled and went back to where she left off. 

He watched her another moment, then headed out to the garage to tackle a Camaro he had towed to the estate with his truck. He got the fuel system drained and went back up to the house to start Amanda’s lunch. 

He stopped to peek in - she had the CD player going and was singing along to some folk singer as she sorted the last pile of clutter, tossing some into a big garbage can she had brought in and sorting the rest into laundry baskets, he assumed to be delivered to other parts of the house. It looked much better. She had somehow cleaned the carpets and the whole room was wiped down and back in order. 

In the kitchen he put some garlic and onions on the burner to brown, then looked around as he sorted out what else would go in her soup. 

Wow, he thought. This really is bad. As the soup simmered he swept, wiped, put away and tossed on the screened-in porch, or cook shack, where the bulk of the cooking happened. He cleared stuff off the table in the big dining room and set out the food. He hadn’t noticed before, but when the table sits 14 and there are only two of you, it was easy to let stuff pile up. 

He went back to the parlor. “How’s it going?” 

“Good! Look at this!” She waved at the room.

“Looks great. Food’s ready, if you want some.” 

“Perfect! Good timing.” She dropped a last stack of magazines in the garbage and turned to join him. 

After they ate she came over for a hug. “Thank you. That was perfect. I’ve got a second wind. I’m going to go tackle the bedroom and bathroom before I run out of steam.”

“You go, tiger.” 

“Hey, if you want to -” she said. He grinned and tilted his head. “Do you feel like firing up the hot tub later?” she asked. “Maybe after dinner? I’m gonna be all hot and sweaty and dirty, that would be nice.”

“Oh, hell yeah, I’d like that a lot,” he said. “I’d be glad to.” 

“Good. Now I have something to look forward to.” 

He cleaned up lunch and then kept going. The clutter and trash in the big kitchen was mostly opened food packages that got stale or spoiled before they were used up. He hauled three tubs of compost out to the bin behind the garden, then started on the wheeled 40-gallon trash cans. One by one he pulled them to the neighbor’s house several doors down and dumped them in their huge in-ground swimming pool. Neither he nor Amanda were thrilled with that solution, but it had to go somewhere and at least it was out of sight and smell and the trash wouldn’t blow around the neighborhood. 

With Amanda upstairs, he got her full trash cans out of the parlor and hallway as well and  took them away. Ever since he found her struggling to pull an over-full trash bin down the driveway a few weeks before, he made a point of keeping track and getting rid of the trash before she could. 

He had offered to help, and of course she refused. It was so fucking ridiculous - it was as big as her, she really could hardly move it, and he was right there with empty hands. He had tried to insist, and she had laid into him so bad it still stung. He had no idea she knew language like that. And she had stayed mad for a day or so, barely speaking to him. That was a first. That was the last time he kept trying to help past her first ‘no’, and the last time he tried to take something from her hands. 

So now, when he found her doing something he thought wasn’t safe or he could do easier, he kept his mouth shut and kept track. The trash was hauled away and the wood cut before she needed to think about it. Her path through the tall grass was nice and short whenever she wanted to walk. He refilled the water jugs when he thought of it. When she was up on a ladder trying to prop up a rickety grape arbor, she went back a week or so later to find it practically rebuilt and sturdy as could be.  

And she did not mind any of that. At first he thought she’d be mad, but nope. She didn’t always notice, but when she did he got hugs and kisses and lots of sincere appreciation. It gave him something to do, too. He envied her ability to while away hours with painting or gluing paper or whatever the hell she was doing with the beads and playdough - he had no idea what that was.

The one job he did leave for her was emptying the toilets. It wasn’t heavy or hard, just disgusting. She didn’t seem to mind, and it made him gag. When he asked her about it, she laughed and said something about being a special education teacher and body fluids. He let it go - if it made her immune to emptying latrines, he didn’t want to know any more about it.  

He tossed a few pieces of trash that had blown out back in the pool and headed back for the last of the trashcans. He wanted to be busy, too, but it needed to be something useful, something that was worth doing, not just moving shit around for the hell of it. He was having a good time, for example, figuring out her wood-fired bread oven, and he kept his eyes open for the next project after that.

That’s what was killing me in Nashville, he thought, as he lined the empty trash bins up next to the house. He just couldn’t keep going with no purpose at all. This still wasn’t much - you couldn’t think too hard about the point of anything. But between the projects for making their life a little easier and his time with Amanda, it was worth sticking around and he no longer thought so much about driving the truck into a wall. 

He whistled as he went through the hall and up the steps - all the clutter at the bottom of the stairs and on all the little tables and furniture in the hallway, evidence of being too lazy to take a trip upstairs, was gone, everything was dusted, and the carpets swept. 

He found her finishing up in their shared bathroom next to the bedroom.  

“This is nice,” he said. The room sparkled and smelled great. 

“Thanks. I’m gonna finish the bedroom and then I’m done. I’ll get to the kitchen and cook shack some other time.” 

He grinned but didn’t say anything. She stripped the bed and pulled open the plastic packaging for a brand new set of king-sized sheets, soft and silky in a light blue. After she made up the bed he did a double take when she piled the soiled sheets in a trash can. 

“Are you throwing those away?” he asked. 

“Yup. I don’t feel like washing them. Do you?” 

“Huh. I guess not.”

“We could open a new package of sheets every week for the rest of lives if we want.”

He shrugged. You couldn’t argue with that, but it still seemed strange. 

While she tackled the clutter in the bedroom he went to his weight room to gather up towels. She pitched her towels and got new ones, but with his weight room he went through so many. He didn’t mind them being rough from line-drying so he washed a load when they fired up the hot tub. 

He stepped into his bathroom and winced. It was sparkling, from the floor and counter to the shower. The towels were in a laundry basket that hadn’t been there before, and the mirror and every surface gleamed. Even the camping toilet he had brought in for his convenience was empty and clean. 

He went back to the bedroom. “Sweetheart, did you clean my bathroom?” 

“Yep. I was on a roll.” 

“God, it was fucking disgusting. You did not have to do that.” 

“I know.” She put a basket of books to go back to the library and a stack of dishes for the kitchen by the door. 

“Well, thank you,” he said. “You don’t need to next time, though. I’ll get to it. I feel bad you were even in there.”  

“I wanted to. I was in bathroom-cleaning mode. Don’t worry about it.” 

He didn’t argue, just grabbed some laundry and headed downstairs. He decided not to fight that one.

The heating coil on the hot tub was loaded and started when Amanda came out of the house. 

“Christian!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“You cleaned the kitchen and cook shack!” 

“Yep. I was on a roll.” 

She ran over and hugged him. “Thank you! That’s wonderful! That was a big job.” 

“It wasn’t too bad.” 

“And you hauled all the trash away.” She went from hugs to kisses, climbing all over him. He grinned when she started pulling at his clothes. 

“Well, shit. If I knew it turned you on this much, I’da been cleaning a lot sooner.” 

They stripped and tumbled into the pool, and she was a wildcat, all over him before finally settling pleasantly exhausted in his arms.

 

A few days later he woke up - again, way too early for his liking - and watched Amanda with her even breathing and face soft in sleep for a few moments before he got up to use the bathroom. When he came back he scooted close and ran his finger down her arm, then lightly over her bare breast and hip and back up to stroke her back and her arm again. She was so warm and soft, and yesterday had been so busy.  

“Mmmm.”  Her eyes didn’t open but she shifted a little closer and her leg twined in his.  He smiled and kept touching her, light and soft, down over her bottom and up again to caress her face. 

“Mmm.” On almost every exhale she gave that soft sound, just relaxation and pleasure.  She still hadn’t opened her eyes, but her hands were moving now, her fingertips barely skimming over his skin where they could reach, then pausing a moment as if she had drifted back to sleep, then again down over his back and up to his neck as she scooted closer and wrapped around him.  

“Mmmm,” she murmured. “I love you. This is nice.” His hand kept moving but he could feel his body flash hot and cold and his thoughts stutter to a halt. Did she just . . . he looked down and her face was still soft and peaceful and her eyes closed. 

Again her hand slowed to a stop on his lower back, he felt her relax against him, then a moment later she moved against him and he saw a small smile. Was she even awake? Was that to him, or was she thinking of Ryan? 

There was an ache in his chest, a tightness, and he took a deep breath. He knew she loved Christian Kane, whatever that meant when fans screamed ‘I love you, Christian’ during concerts or in the flattering but disturbing letters he used to get. 

But this wasn’t that. He still hadn’t seen her blue eyes - if he could see her eyes he would know. He was still stroking her all over and she was twined up against him, moving slowly, soft and languid. She said nothing else but the soft ‘mmm’ with almost every breath and every touch.  She had nuzzled in and was kissing his neck, resting as she said in her second favorite spot, against his chest in his arms.  

“Are you awake?” he asked softly. 

“Mmm. Sorta.” She finally opened her eyes and smiled at him and he searched her face, but saw only the heavy gaze of sleep and rising passion from his touches, and the openness of trust and everything they had been through together. 

“This is nice,” she said softly. She wasn’t looking for his reaction, or biting her lip, or hiding against his chest. She doesn’t know she said it, he thought. Does that make it more true because it slipped past her defenses? Or maybe it wasn’t even to him.  

The ache in his chest turned to a sharp pang for a moment and he wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment. He thought of saying it to her, cradling her face and looking into her eyes and saying ‘I love you,’ because he did, really. But what did that even mean now, with just the two of them? What would that mean to her? What would change? What if she didn’t feel that way?

Jackass, he thought. You know she does. But what if she wasn't ready to say it, or admit it? 

What a pussy you are, he thought to himself. 

Even while his thoughts raged he kept touching her, soft and sweet, the trailing tickling touch that had been so hard for her to ask for.  

“I love waking up like this,” she murmured, twining her arms around his neck and snuggling against him. “I can’t tell where the dream ends and reality begins.” 

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked softly against her hair. 

“You, of course.” She nuzzled against his skin. 

He didn’t know how she didn’t hear his heart pounding. So, awake or asleep, it had been him. He remembered her soft voice, so sweet. He imagined her saying it again, looking at him. 

He had said it more than once in his life, before. Sometimes he meant it more than others, and a few times he regretted it entirely. He and Amanda had only been together, what, two months or so. It was too soon, really. Well, too soon before. Who knows now? If they needed each other to stay sane and alive, was that love? 

He guided her, soft and sweet, with his kisses and touches. His rising passion matched hers and they made love in the early morning light. 


	22. Chapter 22 - Amanda, ask.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christian finds a way to keep Amanda entertained. A couple of ways, actually. This is why Sweet Carolina Rain is her favorite song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian Kane, or his music, or his southern drawl, or motorcycles.

Chapter 22

Amanda wandered by the garden and pulled a few weeds before she got bored. The earliest tomatoes had a few small green fruits, so it might be mid or late June. She had three unfinished books that had not held her interest. She had collage projects, weaving and paintings all over the place and she didn’t care if they ever got done. They had just gotten back from a two-day trip to a mall and had stopped to kayak at the lake on the way back. She sighed and wandered to the gazebo and sat to meditate. She lasted about two minutes before she was up, restless and wandering again. 

Christian had pulled the red truck a few houses down to chop up a dead tree for firewood. Between the hot tub and a firepit at night, they had cleaned all of the deadwood out of the estate. She wasn’t allowed to help and it was boring to watch after a while, so she had stayed behind. She wandered now down the few houses to join him. 

“Hey, darlin’.” He grabbed his shirt from a low branch and wiped his face. “Everything alright?”

“Yep.” 

He tossed his shirt back on the tree and hefted his ax - splitting maul, she corrected herself. He shifted a chunk of tree, brought the ax down and wham! off flew a fire-place sized piece. “I wanna get ahead on this,” he said. “We’ll be going through it for the bread oven.” 

“Uh-huh.” Wow. She had gotten out of the habit of watching him split wood. His shirt was off, torso glistening with sweat, and she could see the play of muscles in his arms, shoulders and back with each swing. His hair was tied back but as always some had escaped, sweaty tendrils hanging down. 

She amused herself for a while watching him, then, restless again, wandered closer. He stopped and put down the ax. 

“What’s up?” he asked. She shook her head and stepped in for a hug, resting her head on his bare chest. He hesitated before wrapping her in his arms. “I’m all sweaty, hon.” 

“Yep.” She nuzzled against him and slid her arms around his waist. 

He sighed and pulled her close, resting his head on hers. Then he startled and tried to pull back, but she didn’t loosen her hold. “Are you licking me?” he asked. 

“Yep.” 

“What are you doing? Stop it.” He tried again to pull her back, but she wouldn’t go. “That’s gross.” 

“You’re all sweaty. You taste good.” She nibbled and licked across his chest. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” But he was laughing and gave up trying to pry her off of him. 

“Yum.” She worked her way up to his neck, sucking on his salty skin. 

“Come on, cut it out.” 

“Nope,” and she was right back on him. 

“You are crazy.” 

“You like that about me.” She closed her eyes and nuzzled into his neck, licking at the sweat, catching his scent, and feeling him damp and warm against her. He chuckled and kissed down her cheek, into the hollow of her neck. 

“Mmm.” She finally took her mouth off of him and tilted her head to enjoy his kisses. He slid his arms around, moving her as he worked his way to the back of her neck until she was facing away from him, leaning back while he kissed on her. 

“There we go. Now you can’t get ahold of me.” he murmured against her skin and tightened his hold, pulling her back against him. 

“Oh, darn.” She leaned back, putting her arms over his. “That sure is terrible.” 

He slid his hands down to cradle her hips. She moved up and down, feeling him grow hard as she rubbed her ass on him. She covered his hand at her waist with hers and brought it up so his hand was on her breast. 

“Mmm.” She moaned as he caressed her. 

“You gonna let me go clean up?” he asked between nips on her neck. 

“Nope.” She moved against him. 

“You got somethin’ in mind?” he asked. 

“No. I don’t know. I came over to tell you I’m bored.” 

“You’re bored?” 

“Yep.” She turned around to see him, arms around his neck. “I don’t know what to do with myself.” 

“What about your yard weaving thing?”

“It’s really stupid. There’s no point.”

“That never fucking stopped you before.” His grin was sly, but she just shook her head. 

“All the art projects are stupid. I can’t stand to read another book. I don’t feel like cooking. I’m bored with the garden. We just got back from a road trip.” She looked up, frowning. “I’m bored. Fix it.” 

“What?” He was smiling so wide all his laughs lines showed. 

“You said you’d fix it.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“Back when we were putting in the garden, and you wanted to go right through and get everything done. I said if we got everything done and I was bored, you had to keep me entertained. And you said OK.”

“Oh, like, months ago? When we first moved in?” 

“Yep.”

“All right, then. Let’s see about that.” He was chuckling again as he led her to a porch swing on a nearby house. He set them swinging and put his arm around her. “I could bend you over this swing and fuck you - that would keep you entertained.” 

“Well, sure, but what about after that?”

“We could do it again.”  

She sighed, but wasn’t as exasperated as she sounded. This was pretty fun. “Yes, fine, that would be hours of entertainment.  But eventually we’d be done. Then what?”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his knuckles on his jaw and looked over the yard. Her frustration gave way to a trickle of excitement. If he put his bulldog problem-solving mind to it, who knows what he would come up with. “You don’t want to read or do your art shit or go on a trip,” he mused. “Any trip, or just our usual trips?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Well, we’ll keep that in mind. I’ll come on back, we could do some cooking.” 

“Boring.” 

“Let’s take a bike ride.” 

“Boring.”

“We could work on some music.”

“Boring.” He shot her a look, but she just raised her chin and stared back.

“Fight lesson?” 

“Boring.” She sighed. “Not really, but I don’t want to right now.” 

“Ok. Well, if you really want a change we could go to a different city for a while, or do some traveling.”  

“What’s the point? We’ll work hard to get it as nice as here, and  _ then _ be bored.” 

“Wow,” he said mildly. “Who pissed in your wheaties?” 

“I just want to be distracted. I can’t focus on anything. Nothing seems worth it.” 

“It’s okay, hon. We’ll figure this out.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I am, by the way, gonna lay you down on this swing. I can’t quite get that picture out of my mind.” 

“Goody.” She grinned and squeezed his knee. 

“Let’s see. What about some drag racing? You want to drive?” 

“That would be fun - at least I’d feel alive.” 

“So, something to make you feel alive,” he said. 

“Yeah. I just want to get out of my own head. There’s just not much that can keep me occupied enough to make it stop.” 

He reached up to stroke her cheek. “I understand, baby.” 

She sighed again, a short hard sigh. “I just wish there was more to do. I want something that fills up my senses. I want to go white-water rafting, or horseback riding, or rock-climbing, or go down a waterslide or stand under a waterfall.  Or, I don’t know, hang-gliding or parasailing. Or Jetski-ing.  Did you know I used to go tree-climbing, with arborist ropes to get to the top of a 60-foot tree and then rappel down?  That was amazing.” She looked up and grinned. “Sex is perfect - very distracting. But unfortunately we can’t do that all day long.” 

“We’ve tried.” His grin was broad. 

“Valiant efforts. But a hot bath and gardening just doesn’t quite do it.”   

“We could try to find some of those other things,” he said. “An indoor rock climbing center or something?” 

“I also don’t want to be crumpled on the ground with broken legs dying painfully.  I’m not good enough at any of it to do without close professional supervision and equipment.”  

“Hmm. Well, let me set my mind to it. I’ll see what I can come up with. I could use some excitement, too.”

“Mmm.” She turned and cuddled up under his arm. “I feel better already.” He rested his hand on her knee, gently stroking, but it felt like his attention was elsewhere. She looked up to see him glancing around the porch. 

“What?” she asked. 

“Well, I’m trying to figure out the logistics of the porch swing, here.”  

“Ah.” She scooted away, turned around and threw a leg over him, sitting astride his lap. “We could do this.” 

He put his hands around her waist and pushed off with his feet, setting the swing going and swaying her against him. “Oh yeah. I’m trying to come up with something different, though.” 

“Yum.” She leaned down for a kiss. 

He kissed her back, then pulled back. “Here, baby, stand up.” 

She untangled her legs and moved to stand where he pulled her, between his spread knees. He slid his hands into the waistband of her shorts and panties and started sliding them down, slowly. She stood stock still as he stripped her, already breathing hard as he tugged off her clothes and pulled her close, kissing all over her. 

They found, though, no easy way to have sex on a moving porch swing. Christian got a splinter and they both got dumped off twice, and then they were laughing so hard there was no way to make it work. They broke into the house and enjoyed themselves on a wide leather sofa and shaggy rug in the living room.  

 

Later back at the house, he found her in the art room, working on a paper pulp sculpture.  “I’m going to take a walk.  I’ll be back this afternoon sometime.”

“Ok. Do you want company?”

“No, nosy.” 

“No.” She grinned. “I just wanted to keep you company.”   

When she got bored with her art project she weeded the garden for a while, then worked on the dogs’ training for a few minutes, then finally settled on the hammock with a book. It was hard to settle because she was excited to see what he came back with. 

She was just getting bored with her book when Jack jumped up from his spot next to the hammock and stared toward the road with a whuff.  “Calm down, It’s just Christian.”  His ears were pointed forward and he whined, then took off down the driveway. She sat up and listened - it was an engine, but she thought he was walking. That wasn’t the truck, anyway.  She put the book down and stood up, trying to hear over both dogs barking. It got louder and then he came around the corner on a huge black motorcycle.  Her jaw dropped and her heart was pounding as he came roaring down the driveway, across the lawn and pulled up right in front of her. 

His grin was wide as he cut the engine. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Do you want to go for a ride?”  

“Are you kidding me? This is amazing! Where did you find it? I can’t believe it!” He was laughing, and she realized she was actually jumping up and down.  

“I noticed this bad boy a couple weeks ago, and thought about going back to find the keys and get it started. Seemed like a good day.” 

“Oh my God, I’ve always wanted to do this. I can’t believe it.” 

He handed her a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and a helmet that was strapped on the handle. Fumbling, she put them on. He took her hand and helped climb on the back. “Stay up real close to me, OK? Hold on real tight. If you want me to stop, tap like this,” and his put his hand over hers and showed her. 

“And when you feel me tighten around you, put the hammer down!” she growled. 

“You got it, darlin’. Are you ready? Hold on tight.”  She scooted forward and wrapped her arms around him.  He started it up and with a roar they took off, Amanda squealing with delight.  

 

A few days later, they had just gotten back from another long motorcycle trip right at twilight and Christian was off working on some music. She loved the rides - it somehow seemed faster on the bike then in a car, even though really pretty careful and wouldn’t go as fast as she urged him to. 

She heated another pot of water and poured it in the tub, holding it up high - the water would be a little cooler but would make mounds of bubbles from the bath gel she had put in. She shrugged as she got in the skimpy, warm bath - not as good as the hot tub, but better than a lukewarm pitcher of water. She closed her eyes as she ran her hand down her body and over her smooth labia. She didn’t keep track of time, but it must have been weeks - a month? Six weeks? - since Christian had seduced her into letting him taste her down there. She was surprised he hadn’t asked again - he had finally convinced her that he really did like it. 

And that I like it, too, she thought, and caught her breath and arched her back at the thought of his mouth on her. She sighed and swished her hand through the bubbles. She had found herself thinking about it more and more, waiting for him to ask again. I guess he got tired of being told no, she thought.

She rinsed off with a pitcher of warm water she had reserved, dried off and got dressed in little lace panties and a sundress. She hesitated at the doorway of the music room. He didn’t have his notebook out, he was just messing around on his guitar, and she went in and sat on the daybed, her legs curled up under her, her pulse racing. He looked up and grinned as he did some finger picking before going back to chords.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said.

“Hey, you.” She watch for a while, seeing how his hands moved on the neck and strings of the guitar. He was trying something tricky, it looked like, by the way he bent over his instrument and the concentration on his face. His hair was loose - he’d been keeping it up a lot more since it was getting warmer but now the waves hung down over his face when he leaned forward and he flipped it back when he sat up.

He shifted into slower strumming. “Are you taking requests?” Amanda asked. 

“Sure. What do you want?”

“ _ Sweet Carolina Rain,”  _ she said.

He looked up and gave her that knowing, sexy half-grin as he reached up and pushed his hair back. She bit her lip. 

“All right,” he said. He picked up the tempo and her pulse quickened when she heard the familiar chords. 

 

It gets wetter than when spring rolls along.

It's hotter than hell than when we met last fall.   
It gets better and better every time we touch.   
A sticky situation we're in   
We're trapped in the car and it's raining again,   
And girl every time it stops   
Lord, I miss it so much.   
And I wanna take the top off   
And throw it in the barn, man,   
And just put it in drive .   
  
Run into that   
Sweet Carolina Rain    
  
It's soakin' wet in the middle of the afternoon.   
A little honky tonk, Heavy pettin, and rye.   
Yeah, reaching for a little piece of that pie.   
A brave man loves to feel the rain on his face   
Well, I eat it up now.   
Preacher man's daughter said I was goin' to hell   
And I'm a little superstitious now.   
Driving down the road going a hundred and ten   
Braggin' to your mama's little boy he's a man   
You swear you'll never feel that way again   
No not 'til you're back in that...    
Sweet Carolina Rain   
  


He was belting the song by the time he got to the end. His voice got rough and smoky on ‘I eat it up now.’ He kept playing chords, tossing back his hair and looking at her, his grin broad and blue eyes glittering. He finally stopped playing. 

“Is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice husky. 

She swallowed hard. “Yes, thank you.” She could feel the heat rise in her face. She slid off the bed and walked over to him. “Um, I wanted to tell you something.”  

“Yeah?” He kept picking, looking up at her sideways.

She took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about you. I wanted to tell you that if you want to, I won’t make you work so hard.”

He took off the guitar and put it aside. “If I want to what?” He stood up and took a step toward her, not reaching for her, and she found herself backing up.

“Um . . .” She took another step back as he advanced, his delighted, mischievous grin and those intense blue eyes distracting her. She was startled when she ran into a wall - she hadn’t realized she was so close. She leaned against the wall and he put a hand on either side, not touching her but containing her. She couldn’t look away from his eyes. 

“Um, if you wanted to go down on me,” she whispered.

“If I want to what?” He leaned down, he head inches from hers, his eyes blazing into her, still not touching her.

“If you want to taste me.” She reached up and stroked his neck. 

“If I want to taste what?” His voice was so low and rough she could feel the vibration even across the few inches separating them.

Her heart pounding, a flush rising all over her, she leaned against him and whispered in his ear, “If you want to taste my pussy.”  

She felt the sudden tension in his body and short, sharp intake of breath, but he still didn’t grab her for the thorough, rough kiss she knew was coming, or lean forward to pin her against the wall. 

“Are you asking?” His voice was still husky. 

“What? No, I just wanted to let you know . . .” 

“Ask.”

“I mean, if you don’t want to. . .”

“Amanda. Ask.”

She could hardly breathe at all and she could feel how wet she was, just standing there with him inches away looking at her like that. 

“Christian.” She wrapped her arms more firmly around his neck and stepped against him, closing her eyes and catching her breath when she could feel not only how huge and rock hard he was but the heat of him through his pants and her thin dress. “Could you please go down on me and lick my pussy and do whatever it is you do that makes me so crazy?”

And then finally he pinned her against the wall and kissed her, thorough, possessing, tasting, and it was a good thing she was trapped between his hard body and the wall because her knees wouldn’t have held her up. 

He finally pulled back and looked at her, his eyes softened but his grin broader. “Maybe,” he said. 

She laughed and leaned back, smiling as she looked at him. “I’ll take it!”

He took a step back, pulling her with him, kissing her and grabbing the back of her dress. He pulled it off as she raised her arms, then he tossed it aside and spun her around and she was on her back on the daybed and he was sliding the skimpy panties, already wet, down her legs.       

His hands moved up her thighs as she spread her legs and he spread them further. She gasped as his thumbs tickled the soft skin right at the crease at the top of the inner thigh, opening her up just a little, and then she cried out as his mouth was on her and she could feel his tongue moving on her, in her, around her, so different from his hands, almost too intense but staying right on the edge.

“Fuck, you are so wet,” she heard him murmur and then she moaned as his mouth found her again. 

“That’s just from thinking about you going down on me,” she gasped. She arched her back as it felt like he was lapping at her, taking in her juices and his tongue running up and down the sensitive folds.  She wrapped her hands in his hair as his put his hands on the backs of her thighs and lifted her legs up and apart and then it felt like he was deeper, somehow. She couldn’t even tell what he was doing but jumped and cried out when she felt sucking for just a moment before the intensity eased. 

“Oh my God, what are you. . .” She grabbed the sheets and twisted them in her hands, then reached up over her head and grabbed the side rails of the daybed, arching her back. Her thighs trembled and her legs tried to close, but his broad shoulders were spreading her open now and his hands and mouth were exploring and tasting. There was nothing jarring, nothing harsh or hurtful; even now, buried in her, he paid attention, meeting her when she came forward, easing right before it got to be too much. 

She just held on to the bars for dear life, letting her body buck against him, her cries getting louder and longer. It felt like a finger and then his tongue slid into her, both felt good but so different. He didn’t go near her clit and she didn’t know how the sensations could keep building and building like this and how long this could go on. The intensity eased a bit and she could feel his lips and tongue gently tasting and sucking. She grabbed a pillow and put it under her head so she could look down and see him, see his head between her legs giving her pleasure.  

Her breath was coming in little gasps with every move he made and she saw the glint of blue eyes as he looked up at her through the curtain of his hair. She reached down and brushed it back and she saw the crinkle as his eyes smiled at her, then the sensations began building again and her head went back as she moaned and pushed her hips against him.

He was circling closer and closer to the center of her, barely brushing the sensitive clit, and she started to rock against him, her skin growing hot. Then he was gone and she moaned and opened her eyes and reached for him. He was stripping his clothes - he hadn’t even gotten undressed before he started on her, and within a moment he was naked and in her arms and kissing her and she could taste herself all over him.  He spread her legs again, this time with his knee, and lifted his head to look at her with a flushed face and shining eyes as she wrapped her legs around him and he took her, fast and hard but she was so wet and hot and ready. 

Thrust after thrust he filled her up to the core, and within moments he was ready and she could tell he was trying to hold back. She pulled him close with her legs and pushed her hips against him and with just a few strokes he moaned and cried out, his hands gripping her shoulders as he trembled and then collapsed on her. 

After a few minutes his breathing calmed and he started to shift to the side to get his weight off her as he usually did, but she tightened her arms and held him closer. 

“No, stay here,” she said softly. He sighed and she felt him settle against her as she stroked his hair and down his back. “Oh, Christian, that was . . .” she was still breathless. “Wow. That was a lot different than before.”   

“Mmm. Did you like it?” His voice was muffled against her chest. 

“Oh God yes.” 

He tightened his arm around her for a moment and kissed her breast where his head was resting. “I’m glad. Me too.”  

“Wow,” she said again, moving her hips against him. 

“Can I help you with something?” he asked, moving his hand down to her hip.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, moving under him, but when he started to shift off of her she said, “In a minute, though,” and pulled him close again. “That was amazing.” 

“I can’t believe you ever thought you didn’t like that.”  He started to move and again she held him tight against her. “Here, let me go. I want to look at you.”  

“I don’t want to let you go.” She held him another moment and finally loosened her arms and he propped up next to her, pressed up against her and looking at her with those warm, blue eyes, his hair framing his face, his smile soft. 

“Why was that so different?” she asked.

“I had a little more room to play. I didn’t have to be quite so careful.” He ran his hand over her face, brushing her lips with his thumb.  He looked her up and down, his eyes following his hand as he touched her, cupping her breast, his thumb stroking her pebbled nipple, then down over her hip and tickling up her inner thigh. 

“Now,” he said, looking back up into her eyes as his leg slid between hers to ease them apart and his hand teased into the sensitive folds of her, “What can I do to help you?” 

 

Christian loved touching her like this, where he could watch her face and body as his hand and mouth brought her to the edge and over. Already Amanda’s eyes were closed, her head going back and her back arching as he slipped a finger into the folds of her, and sweet Jesus she was so wet.  _ Carolina Rain _ might have been written for her. There were those little gasps, catching her breath over and over, almost hyperventilating sometimes, and he slid his fingers a little deeper and a little more firmly as he leaned down and sucked on her nipple. 

She moaned and arched against him and he groaned and sucked a little harder, teasing with his tongue while his hand met her thrusting hips. Although he had been completely sated a few minutes before, his pulse was racing and he was hard again pressed against her leg. It was almost like playing an instrument, she was so responsive to his every look and every touch. 

He could feel the pulsing around his fingers from her building orgasm and see the flush rising on her body, over her stomach and breasts and face. 

“Please . . . “ she begged and he slid up to her swollen clitty, trying to stay soft as she started bucking against him. If he was too rough right now she would jump out of her skin but finding her in the frenzied motion and hot juices took focus. 

Just a few more moments . . . then she was rigid against him, nails digging into his shoulders, a keening cry in his ear, and juices soaking his hand.  He was ready when she gasped, “Stop stop stop,” pulling her against him, holding her as the shudders wracked her body. She gradually calmed and her breathing slowed and she cuddled up against his chest. He watched the flush fade and felt the aftershocks, the smaller convulsions that came over her for a few minutes after. 

Finally she pulled back and couple of inches and looked at him. He loved this moment, too, seeing how open she was right then and how she looked at him as if what he had provided was the greatest gift she had ever gotten. 

“Wow,” she said. He just smiled, stroking her hair, and she nestled up to him as he grabbed a cover for them.  

He slid an arm under her and she tucked under his chin, wrapped up in his arms. He thought of what that had been like, to be able to dive in and taste her, knowing she wanted it and she trusted him. His mouth in all the sweet folds of her, all the hidden spots - he had to take a a couple of breaths to keep from pressing his growing erection against her, to keep from pressing her to her back and taking her again right then. 

I’m so glad I waited, he thought. As much as she loved it, once he got her over whatever that was each time, he was certain she would eventually come to him. The difference this time, not having to worry about her shutting down if he pushed too hard or if he triggered whatever trauma she had around oral sex, being able to play and taste and explore had him already thinking about next time.


	23. Chapter 23 - Did you folks know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christian tells her no! And he's able to accept some comfort when the loss hits him again, although it's hard.

Chapter 23

The afternoon sun was blazing down as Christian smoothly pulled the motorcycle up next to the carriage house. 

“That is amazing!” Amanda hollered as she swung off from behind Christian. “I love it. I want to learn how to ride.” 

“You do?” He hung his helmet on the handle.

“Yes. That is such a rush. Will you teach me?” She handed him her helmet. “We can go out riding together.” 

“It’s kinda dangerous.” He wheeled the motorcycle into the garage, Amanda following.

“I’ll be careful,” she said. He shot her a look. “Well, start me off on something small and safe, then.” 

“Amanda, none of its safe. Even a damn moped you can lay down and get fucked up if you don’t know what you’re doing.” He put down the kickstand and closed the door on his way out.

“Then teach me. It’ll be fine.” She stepped in front of him and put her arms around his neck. “Please?”

He sighed. “Darlin’, anybody starting out can crash. Hell, I laid down my first dirt bike a few times. No matter how careful you are or how I teach you, somethin’ can happen. We got no doctors, no hospitals - even if you just needed a bone set or some blood, we’re fucked.” 

“But it would be so much fun. What if I just ride somewhere safe - we’ll find a field or something.” 

He put his arms around her waist. She smiled up at him, but his face was grim. “I wish I could,” he said, his voice measured, “but it isn’t safe. Baby, I will take you out any time you want, but I’m not gonna get you a bike or teach you to ride one.” 

She tilted her head, looking up at him. “What if I go find one and try to teach myself?” 

His mouth tightened. “Then I’m gonna be pretty damn unhappy about that, and try to persuade you how fucking stupid that would be. Amanda -” he stopped and looked away. She recognized that - it took a bit for him to stay under control right now. “It’s too easy to get hurt, even if you  _ were _ the most attentive and careful person in the world. And if you get hurt bad, we’re screwed. It’s not worth it. I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t sound sorry, she thought. He sounds really mad. His voice was low and rough, his words clipped. 

She sighed. “Ok.” 

He lowered his head, holding her gaze. “Ok?”

“Yep. Ok. No bike for me. I’ll just ask you to take me if I want to go out.” 

“Huh. Good.” The tension in his arms around her eased but he was still frowning.

“What?” she asked.

“Well, I’m not used to you giving in this easy,” he said.  

She laughed. “Are you wondering what I’m up to?” 

He finally grinned back. “Yeah, a little.”

“No, I’m not up to anything. I asked for something, you said no. Plus, you’re right - it’s probably not safe for me in particular to get a motorcycle. Not that you’ll get me to admit it.” 

He gave a big sigh of relief. “Good.” 

“You were ready to fight me on this one, huh?” 

“Yup. I’d rather fight you then clean you up off the pavement.” 

 

It was later than usual a few days later when Christian settled into the music room with his guitar and notebook and whiskey. She curled up on the daybed with a few stuffed animals that had migrated downstairs. There had been an excursion to Winton Woods Lake yesterday and he had gotten several ducks, so today had been taken up with elaborate planning, cooking, and eating that went well into the evening. 

Christian had been struck on the short ride to and from the lake on how bad everything looked. He had been here with Amanda only three or four months, but compared to the little bit of orderliness they managed to create at Laurel Oaks, the rest of the world looked beaten down. The neglected houses, every green space overgrown, trees down, trash blowing everywhere, the resources of a whole world just decaying and going to waste. He wanted to capture some of that, if he could.

He picked through melodies, trying lines here or there. It was full dark when he glanced up and Amanda was just watching him with that little smile, as usual. 

“I don’t know how you don’t get bored with this,” he said. 

“I love it. It’s fascinating.” 

“Why?” 

“Well -” she sat up and tucked a stuffed rabbit into her lap. “You’re so focused. You’re in your own world, and your expressions - when you like something, you just look so pleased and happy. And it’s so cool to hear the evolution, to see how it changes from when you first come up with something.” Her smile was so sweet. “I’m so glad you don’t mind me being here.” 

“I’ve gotten used to it.” He grinned as he strummed some chords. “Naw, baby, I love it. I’ll be honest with ya, nobody was hanging out with me for all this before.” He shifted in his chair and closed the notebook. “Alright. Any requests?”

“You know what I was thinking about the other day?  _ Crazy in Love. _ ”

“Well, that’s been about five fucking years ago, so gimme a minute.” 

He started with the lines he remembered, picking the tune over and over and recalling a little more each time until he had most of it. The last few lyrics usually came as he sang through it. Amanda didn’t mind waiting around for this, either, and often threw out the next line for him. 

“Ok, I think I got it.” 

Am I crazy?  Well, yes, I am   
And I don't think that it seems really all that strange   
When I'm outside doing cartwheels in the rain   
But if you could see her walk across a crowded room   
You would understand why I go insane   
The way she glistens in the moonlight   
The way she outshines the star brighter than any sun    
Oh, then I tell you man well, yeah   
Well, I just can't get enough    
'Cause I'm   
Crazy in Love

 

“Thank you!” Her grin was wide. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Who was that about?” 

He shook his head and smiled. She always asked that. She knew more about his music by now than anyone else ever had. “Juliet. This girl I dated a few different times.” 

“Wait.” She sat up. “Juliet Landau?” 

“Yeah. How did -” 

“Oh, I’m so glad. You were so cute together.”

“Hold up.” He frowned. “Did you folks know about me and Juliet?”  

“No, I never heard a word. I knew you worked together on  _ Angel _ , and then for her Undead project - what was that?”

“ _ A Place Among the Undead _ .” 

“Right,” she said. “The vampire documentary. You just were so cute together. I’m glad. How long did you go out?”

“Um, it was off and on. How did you know? We tried real hard to keep it quiet.” 

He saw her expression shift - she realized he wasn’t too happy with this conversation. “Christian, I didn’t know. Not one word anywhere, and I would have found it if there was - I looked.”

“Alright.” 

“You just looked so happy with her.” 

“Okay.” He glanced over - she looked concerned. “No, it’s fine, hon. I just was thinkin’, if that one got out, what else did.” He gave a short laugh and shook his head. “Shit, not that it matters anymore. Who’s around to know? It’s just habit, I guess.”  

After a moment she asked, “So how long did you go out?” 

“Well, first was when I was on  _ Angel _ . She was amazing. Then we were in different cities, working on different things and it just didn’t work out. But we got along fine. Then when we found ourselves headed in the same direction we would get together for a while. A few different times, I guess, we were together for a few months.” He looked down, smiling, and picked a few notes. “A really neat girl. She was somethin’. I think we got along so well because we were both so focused on our work.” 

He looked up with that half-grin. “You’re the only one I ever told, besides her, that song was about her.” 

“Wow.” 

He picked through it again, singing it almost to himself. “She was one of the last to go. I got to see her right before the end.” 

Amanda was quiet as he played, strumming through a couple of songs before he felt collected and looked up to meet her gaze. 

“Thank you for telling me that,” she said softly. 

“Sure.” 

“There’s two songs I’ve never asked who they’re about,” she said. “ _ Permanent 99 _ and  _ Sweet Carolina Rain. _ I don’t want to know. I pretend those are mine.” 

“Well, sweetheart,” he said, “ _ Permanent 99 _ is about a particular summer and a particular girl. But  _ Sweet Carolina Rain _ , I had several women in mind when I wrote that. And now, you too.” He shook his head, grinning. “I tell you what, it woulda been written for you if I’da known you then.” 

“Awww.” She was blushing, and he smiled at her wide grin and how she hugged the rabbit to her. “What did your band think when they had to do a song about oral sex?” 

“Nah, they were used to me. They didn’t care.” His grin was mischievous. “And there were a few songs way worse than that. They were just glad I didn’t say we were gonna do some of those.” 

“Like what?” she asked.   

He just shook his head, grinning. “Any other requests?” he asked. 

“No, whatever you want to play.” She lay down again. 

He was feeling nostalgic now and took the time to figure out some other songs he hadn’t played in years. 

“Amanda, do you remember . . .” He looked over and saw she was asleep. She was right, he did get lost in his own world, but it was fun to have her there. He put the guitar aside and went and sat by her, watching her in the light from the lantern and the moon through the window. She was so sweet, and so stubborn. It was a combination he’d always liked. 

He touched her face and stroked down her arm outside the covers. He started to pull the blanket up over her, then instead took his shirt off and lay down next to her. She was in a tank top and her shoulder was bare so he kissed her, up over her shoulder and as far into the curve of her neck as he could reach.  

She sighed and shifted, rolling to her back but still asleep. He kissed the swell of her breasts over the tank top, and then pulled back and cradled her face, looking at her, before easing the covers back and kissing and trailing his fingertips over all the skin he could reach, as lightly as he could.   

There were some women he’d been with who he’d no more wake up out of a sound sleep for sex than he would poke a bear with a stick, if he valued his life. Amanda moaned and tilted her head back, baring her neck but still asleep as far as he could tell. He grinned even as he kissed down into that sweet spot, where he felt her pulse under his mouth and her breath started to catch. 

He was pretty sure this was going to be fine. 

He stopped to shed the rest of his clothes and slid next to her again, easing her top down and touching and caressing each inch of newly exposed skin. She was so warm and soft. He could taste just a little salt on her skin, and smell a hint of the peach bath stuff and the scent of her at the end of a warm day. 

“Mmmm.” She put an arm around him. “This is nice. Did I fall asleep?” 

He kissed into her neck again and ran his hand over her hip. “Mmm-hmm.” 

“Mmm. I’m glad you didn’t leave me down here by myself.” 

He rested his head on her and swallowed hard. This was another time when she was gonna think he was taking care of her, when she was giving him just what he needed, being so open and loving about his music and with her body.  

She was still half asleep so he got to kiss and touch and caress for a while before she started getting worked up. Her moans built until she was pushing against him, giving those little gasps at every touch and grabbing his hair for thorough, demanding kisses. 

I don’t know which I like better, he thought briefly, gasping against her. The instant wildcat going crazy at his touch was so hot, but he loved this too, being able to take his time.

Now, though, she wanted him. His heart was pounding, his breathing was rapid and there was a fire in his belly as her legs went up, pulling him into her. He propped up so he could watch her face, he could see the moment he filled her - her head went back and her expression changed from wanting to being satisfied. She pulled him down to her. She wanted to be contained, covered, and protected. She always wanted him right against her, filling her world, so every scent and sound and sensation was him. She filled up his world, as well, until they both were lost.  

 

Christian had been out with his gun most of the day and had some projects he was working on when he got back. Amanda got wrapped up in an art project and went to bed late and by herself. 

A thump jerked her awake and she sat up to see a dark shape in the doorway. “What is it?”

“Jus’ me.”  

“Christian, are you OK?” She must have been sound asleep, it took a moment to clear her head. 

“Yeah. I can’t come to bed, I’m too drunk again.” 

As her eyes adjusted she could see him swaying in the doorway. “Drunk wasn’t the problem, it was you grabbing me without paying attention.” 

There was a pause. “What?” he finally said.

“It’s OK. Come here.” He made his way to the bed and sat down heavily. In the moonlight from the window she could see he had on a T-shirt and athletic pants and his hair was a wild mane. She reached out and touched his arm. “Wow - I wonder what time it is. I can’t quite wake up.” 

“I dunno. The clocks don’t work.” She could see him swaying even sitting down. 

“I know, sweetie. Here, can you get your shirt off?” Sleep fell away and her senses sharpened as she helped him out of his shirt. She ran over the last day or so in her mind - he hadn’t seemed moodier than usual, although he had been out for a while and had kept to himself when he got back. That by itself wasn’t usually a warning sign, though, that he was having a hard time.  

She wasn’t sure how this was going to go but she didn’t want to run off if she didn’t have to. If something had gotten to him, he might need her. He seemed wobbly enough - she caught his arm as he started to tip off the bed - that she could get out of reach if she had to. 

“You never call me sweetie.”  His voice was slurred and movements slow as she got the rest of his clothes off and tucked him under the covers. She couldn’t imagine how much it took to get him like this. She snuggled up against him and he put an arm out to pull her close. His hand roamed up and down her back and down to her bottom.  “Hey - you’re naked!” 

“You are too.”  She scooted up just a bit so she could put her arms around his head and cradle him against her chest. 

“Mmm.” She felt and heard a deep sigh from him as he nuzzled against her. “Wait.” He pulled back a little and looked at her, puzzled. “Are you real?” he asked seriously. 

“Yes, Christian, I’m real. I’m Amanda.” She reached up and caressed his face. 

“Oh, I knew that. You’re ’Manda.” He cuddled back down on her chest and she could hear his muffled voice. “I just didn’t know if you were real.” She could feel his breath on her chest. 

“Steve is gone, and Hank, and Jennifer and my folks. And David, and Tim, and Bef. Jermy. Jeremy.  Aldish. Aldis,” he repeated carefully. “He’s gone. And Dean, and Jared. Sarah and Sophia. Sophie, Sophia, Sophie.” His voice slipped into a slurred sing-song.    
“Tha’s Gina. Everyone’s gone.” 

“I know.” She stroked his hair. “You lost so many people.” 

“I just . . .” He lifted his head to look at her. “You’re here.” 

“Yep. You and me, we’re here.”

He had that puzzled look again and his head swayed as he tried to focus on her. “Why?” 

“I don’t know, sweetie.”  

He grinned. “You called me sweetie again.” 

“I guess so.” She closed the distance between them and kissed him, soft at first and then a little more assertive, trying to see what he needed from her. He just accepted at first, moaning as she tasted him and teased against his tongue. He started kissing her back and then suddenly she was on her back accepting an onslaught of kisses, his tongue possessing her and his hands all over her, frantic. 

She opened herself to him, cradling his head and opening her mouth and spreading her legs, accepting his need and giving everything she could. She felt swept away, an ocean of pain washing over and through her. He moved his kisses to her neck, not savage but fierce and hungry, and she gasped and arched her back under his commanding kisses. 

Her hands were on every part of him she could reach, especially cradling and stroking him head, kissing his brow, and she was whispering, “I’m here, It’s OK, I’ve got you,” over and over as if to reassure a child in a nightmare.  She could feel him hard against her and shifted as best she could to make it easier. Even now she was wet and ready for him and he didn’t stop to look or check but slid his body into hers. She let out a long breath and wrapped her arms and legs around him, cradling his head against her neck and his hips into her. He moved with long, slow strokes, filling her up over and over, his head on her, his hair against her face, his hands braced against the back of her shoulders holding her as close to him as a person could be. 

In one of the few coherent thoughts she had since he started kissing her back she thought, it feels like a sacrament. It seemed to go on forever, him stroking inside her and her cradling him, then she felt the tempo change and his breathing shift. 

“Yes, yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’ve got you,” and then he was quivering, filling her up, and she felt the flush rise all over her as she clung to him as she felt one last shudder and then the tension release. 

She stroked his back as his breathing gradually calmed. He started shaking again, a little at first, and then he was clinging to her as great sobs racked him. She just held on, still cradling him. It only lasted a minute or two and then subsided into a few deep breaths and she felt him finally, truly ease. His full relaxed weight was on her now and she nudged him until he shifted just enough for her to breathe, then she snagged the cover and wrapped herself around him again, brushing his hair back and feeling the rise and fall of his breathing along her body. 

She felt . . . pure, somehow. That had been such a precious thing. He had needed her so deeply, and she had been able to be there for him. Her mind want to race and figure out what it meant and how she felt and what might happen next, but she kept quieting her thoughts, coming back to holding him, feeling his body anchoring her, his even, deep breathing, his hair under her hand and the scent and taste of him.  

“Amanda.” She turned her head and saw he had shifted to look at her. She could see him more clearly and realized it must be close to sunrise. His hair was a mass of waves tumbling around his face and his blue eyes just drank her in. There wasn’t a smile but a softness around his mouth that she hadn’t seen before and it made him look so young. 

“Yeah.” She stroked his face. He didn’t say anything more, just looked at her and she met his gaze, feeling like he was looking into her soul. He finally closed the small distance between them and kissed her, so soft, and shifted so they were facing each other and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He closed his eyes and she heard his breathing change and felt herself relax and they both drifted off. 

 

It was full day when she awoke, sweaty and still twined with Christian. She lay still, feeling his breath against her, feeling his heartbeat, grinning a little when she wondered how stiff they would be when they finally moved apart. She couldn’t stop her mind from spinning now, wondering what was next.  

He groaned and moved and she started extricating herself. Her leg tingled from where his weight had been on it and she straightened out and propped up on one elbow to watch him as he awoke. He finally opened his eyes.

“Hi,” she said softly.

He blinked and focused on her. “Hi.” He winced and closed them again at the bright light coming through the window.

“Hold on.” She scooted away and closed the drapes, then got a water bottle and Tylenol from the nightstand. “Here you go.” He took it and lay back with another groan, covering his eyes with his arm, and she slid back in bed. His other arm slid around her and she curled up next to him. 

When he finally turned to her his voice was low and rough and his face was serious. “You stayed last night.” 

“Yes.” She wanted to say so much - you needed me, that was sacred, I love you, thank you for letting me help you through that. She reached out and stroked his face and waited. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand with a deep breath. 

He opened his eyes again and looked at her. “Thank you.” His voice was quiet. 

“I was so glad to be here for you.” Her voice was as quiet as his. 

“That was rough.” His eyes flicked away, and then back to her. “I, um, have some broken glass to clean up in the music room.”  

“Make sure to get it all,” she said. “I’m barefoot in there sometimes.”

He gave her a small smile. “I’m always surprised when that’s all you have to say.” 

“You’re allowed to be angry, Christian. What am I going to say?” 

“I dunno. ‘Quit throwing the fucking glasses at the wall,’ maybe?”

She grinned and shook her head. “Nope. If it doesn’t affect me, it’s not my business.” 

He grinned back, then his smile faded and his blue eyes were intense. “Thank you,” he said again.  

“Do you remember coming in here?” she asked.     

He lay back and sighed. “Sort of. Yeah. It just hit me, everyone gone. Then I started thinking I imagined you, and I was alone. I had to come check. I couldn’t quite remember why but I knew I couldn’t come to bed with you.” He turned and met her gaze. “Then I was in here anyway.”   

“Yeah, I told you to come in.” She reached out to touch him. “You asked if I was real.” 

“I still wasn’t too sure.” He turned and gathered her up in his arms and his eyes searched her face. “I’m still not too sure. Are you real?” he asked softly.

“Most days.”

“Why did you stay last night?”

“You needed me.”

“I was fucked-up drunk.”   


She nodded. “Yep.”

He took a breath, still looking at her as if searching for something. “It scares me that you stayed. I wish you would protect yourself. I can . . . be a mess when I’m like that.”   

“I was ready to leave if I needed to. It was OK.”  

He shook his head a little. “Naw.” But he didn’t say anything more. 

“How do you feel?” she asked. 

“Like I have a huge fuckin’ hangover.” He stopped to consider. “Probably not as bad as I should, though.”  He looked at her and frowned. “I still can’t believe I’m smashing glass in your music room and all you got to say is ‘I’m barefoot in there.’” 

“Man.” she said. “People must have given you  _ shit _ about that.”

“Well, yeah.” His frown deepened. “It’s not normal to deal with stuff like that.” 

“Oh, really?” She propped up on an elbow again and looked at him. “So, Christian, tell me all about what is normal.”  

“Well, that’s not,” he said stubbornly. 

“Let’s see.” She sat up and pulled the blanket around herself. “Is it normal for all the people and most the animals on a planet to die?  Is it normal to watch every single person you’ve ever known disappear?  It  _ is _ normal to have your parent die, or even your kid if it gets rough. You might have, I dunno, two or three people you know die in a year. In a really bad year,” she added. “Is it normal that you and I didn’t blow our brains out sometime in the last four years?”

He was shaking his head and grinning. “I got it, darlin’. You win. I won’t talk about normal anymore.”

“Huh.” She tilted her head in thought. 

“What?” 

“I’m fine with you smashing glass, but apparently what I have trouble tolerating is you getting all angsty and dramatic about it.” 

His grin broadened but his head tilted and she saw a crease between his eyebrows. “Fuck you,” he growled.

“Okay.” She threw back the covers and jumped on him, landing in his arms. “Sorry,” she said when he winced and groaned. “So, did you break any drums?”

His eyes widened and she grinned at the look of horror on his face. “Oh, fuck no.” 

“See, you don’t lose complete control.”

He tucked her in his arms and rolled her to her back.  “You are crazy.”

“I think you like that about me.”

 

A day or so later he found her in the hammock. “Can I lay down?”

“Of course.” She put down her book and scooted over to make room. He swung his legs in and carefully lay down next to her and she cuddled up next to him. The day was warm but the breeze was pleasant under the trees. 

He finally spoke.  “You know that I moved around a lot as a kid, right?  I was always the new kid, and I used to get in fights, and I would escape to the movies.  You’ve heard all that?”  

“Yeah.”

“I figured you had - I talked about it enough.” His voice was lower and rougher than usual.   He was quiet for a minute and she just waited, her arm around his waist. He sighed.

“When I was twelve, in 6th grade, we moved a month after school started to Denton, Texas. There was this one kid, Patrick Conrad.  He just took a dislike to me, and he was fucking with me every day. I was taught to fight my own battles and me and him scraped a few times, but it just wouldn’t let up, and he got his friends to mess with me. 

“One day I just was sick of it and just laid into him.  I just lost it, and he got hurt pretty bad.  He ended up in the hospital, and needed stitches.  Something was broke - a collarbone, maybe?  I mean, he turned out fine, but did I catch hell.  My mom was always upset anyway over any little fight, but my dad -”  he paused.  

“He was the one taught me to fight, so he didn’t care about that if I wasn’t the one who started the whole thing, but he was so disappointed that I lost control. A man doesn’t do that. I was a hothead anyway, always shooting my mouth off, and after that they were always waiting for me to blow, and getting on me if I got mad about anything.  Signed me up for wrestling to channel it, they said. 

“There’ve been other fights when I did more damage than I meant to, and I’ve never hit a woman, but there’s been stuff I never meant to say or do in relationships that cost me dearly.” He glanced at her and then away. “I told you about . . .” 

“Yeah,” she said softly. 

 He turned to his side, arm under his head, to look at her. “I know you don’t believe me, but I do lose it and I’ve hurt people. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t. It’s OK.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t say that. You're gonna get hurt, and I don't know how to stop it if you won't watch out for yourself.” 

  She just shook her head and pulled him close.    


 


	24. Chapter 24 - So sick of everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both get to a breaking point, lashing out. She'd used to his anger, but how well does Christian handle it when Amanda finally lets loose?

Christian cursed as he scraped his knuckles while trying to turn the wrench - again. He wiped his bloody hand on his pants. The ‘72 Pontiac Firebird he had found was stubborn, and might be beyond his skill to fix.

“Fuck.” He sighed and leaned in to try again to loosen the corrosion on the battery terminals. Usually he got in the zone and time flew by, but not today. He was distracted again by thoughts of his dad. It wasn’t even a damn Firebird, it was something else entirely that they’d been working on. Christian had walked away from a fight his freshman year, he couldn’t remember why now, and his parents had somehow heard of it. ‘Your momma’s proud of you, Chris,’ his dad had said. He knew that meant his dad was proud too, and remembered that feeling of being serious and adult as he handed his dad the wrench.

“Fuck, Godda -” Again, distracted and caught his finger. That one hurt. He turned and with more curses hurled the wrench at the wall as hard as he could. It gouged the drywall and bounced to the floor. It wasn’t the first divot out of that end of the garage. He stomped to the workbench, sucking his finger, and poured more whiskey. He downed it and poured another. He was sick of whiskey - what he wouldn’t give for a cold beer. He was sick of fixing cars, and gardening, and writing songs no one would ever hear. 

He leaned back on the bench, sipping his drink and brooding about his dad. They had spent hours working on cars. What paternal advice he had ever gotten was with his head under a hood, and a lot of the scoldings, too. He was so glad he’d had a chance to provide some nice things for his folks before the end. It should have been for longer, though. 

‘Your momma’s proud of you.’ And then his mom would say, ‘Your daddy’s so proud of you.’ For not the first time, he wished he knew them, especially his dad, during their rodeo days. He seemed like a wild man, larger than life. By the time Chris was around he was an oil man, settled down and traveling from job to job. When he wrote  _ Something’s Gotta Give _ about his dad, the old man hadn’t been too happy at first. He’d tried to explain to Chris it hadn’t been as bleak as all that. He was fine with the choices he made. 

They should have had longer. He and momma had just settled down to retirement, and had everything they needed for once in their lives. They doted on their grandkids, then saw them cut down as babies there at the end. Chris had been holding Justin, Jenny’s little guy just four years old, when he passed. 

It was not fair. He realized his drink was gone and went to pour another. He stopped and took a ragged breath, then turned and threw the half-filled glass at the wall, feeling just a split-second of gratification at the crash. It wasn’t the first pile of shards at the foot of the wall, either. If Amanda ever noticed the battered appearance of the walls or the piles of glass she never said a word.

Usually when he was like this he drank to take the edge off, then went hunting or drag racing or running or worked out until he was fit company before seeking out Amanda or showing up where she could find him.

She made him so mad. A month or so ago, when there hadn’t been enough scotch in the whole dead world to dull that edge the slightest bit and he had gone after her, she acted like it was nothing. And then just a week or two ago - again, more booze than even he could handle, just trying to get away from the weight of everyone he had lost. Goddamit, she could have been hurt, taking him to bed like that. And staying, and holding him. 

He didn’t really know if he was more angry about her not protecting herself, or that he had lost control and cried in her arms. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and took a sip. He tensed his arm, then looked at the bottle and put it back on the bench. Smashing it wouldn’t really help. 

He  _ never _ got that vulnerable. He had watched her after, waiting for something to change, for some sign that she thought less of him. But there was no pity, no disdain. Just lighting up and softening at his every touch. 

He paced the cluttered workshop, hand in his hair. He was about to explode. He couldn’t drink enough to cover it up anymore, and if he took the Corvette or Mustang out right now he might damn well end up against a tree. Amanda could amuse herself with playdough and paint and be just fine. It almost wasn’t right. 

He slammed open the door and headed to the house. It was probably after lunch - he had delayed coming in, trying to get himself under control. Who knew where the hell she was. Not the kitchen, or the parlor - 

He stopped in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. “Amanda!” 

“Yeah?” He followed her voice halfway up the stairs by the time she appeared at the top. “What’s wrong? Are you OK?” 

He pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside as he came up the stairs. “Oh, I’m fucking fine.”

Her eyes were wide and she took half a step back when he caught up to her. He slid his hands on either side of her head and kissed her, forcing her mouth open with his a split second before she could open to him. He was barely aware of her arms sliding around him but was sharply aware of how she tried to keep up, tried to kiss him back and taste him before giving in a moment later. She melted against him, letting his mouth fill her and take her, open and accepting the onslaught. He tightened his grip on her head, found her ponytail holder and pulled it out and twisted his fingers into her hair. 

His tongue was filling her, pushing against her, his teeth on her lip, his mouth possessing her. He felt like he was feeding on her - if he could take her into his body right now he would. He heard a whimper, and thought for a moment he had hurt her. Even as he started to pull back, some part of him didn’t care - he just wanted to lose himself and have control of one goddamn thing in his fucking life. 

It wasn’t pain, though, but desire that fueled those little whimpers and moans deep in her throat. It was want for him that had her press her body to his and tilt her head back, making herself more open to him. He was ravaging her, taking what he wanted, but there was nothing he could take that she wasn’t giving him. He was kissing her so hard he could taste blood, whether his or hers he didn’t know. 

He pulled back. He grit his teeth as he took in her wide, dilated eyes, her rapid breathing, the blush on her face, and her lips, open, red and swollen. 

“Take off your goddamn clothes,” he hissed. Without a moment’s hesitation she stepped back and grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. She shimmied out of her shorts and stood there nude, chest heaving and nipples hard, eyes on him, waiting for whatever he wanted next. 

“Goddamnit.” He was on her again, his hands grabbing her ass, squeezing her breasts, touching all the skin he could reach. He kissed her hard, but she pushed back now. Her tongue was in his mouth, giving as much as she was taking. 

He wrapped his arms tight around her, took a step away from the top of the stairs and laid her down on the hallway carpet. He frantically shoved his shorts out of the way and slid his legs between hers. He felt some resistance when he tried to slide her thighs apart. He grit his teeth and pushed and she gave way, her head back and her body convulsing as she slid open for him. 

He propped up enough to see her face. “This OK?” His voice was so rough he barely sounded human. 

“Yes.” She was so breathless she could hardly speak. 

“Tell me.” 

“Yes. I want this. Pl . . .please.” 

“Tell me again.”

“Yes. I like it. I . . . Oh God!” 

He pushed into her, not slow and gentle, not letting her adjust and make way for him. He took her fast, in as far and hard as he could go. Then out, and in again just like the first time, hard and fast while she cried out and moved under him. By the third stroke she was taking him easily, so hot and tight but as always so wet, so ready. She was soft and yielding, and when he kissed her she didn’t push back or fight for the upper hand. She let him in, soft and delicious and warm, moving both her hips and mouth to meet him and take everything he had to give.

He held her shoulders and put his head down and let himself sink into her, over and over. Everything disappeared, everything he had lost, the pain, the loneliness, the fear of losing the little bit that was left. All there was was every sensation in his body overwhelmed, every sense filled by the taste and smell and feel and sounds of Amanda under him.  

When he got close to coming he slowed down, almost to a stop, until he was back under control, and started again, just as hard. She only moaned and moved against him, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him closer. After forever, an eternity of being engulfed and swallowed up and taken in, he was close again and became aware of her skin hot under his and her cries, the sweat on them and her hands pulling, tangled in his hair. 

“Oh, God . . .” he gasped out.

“Yes, yes, please,” she moaned and he was filling her as she thrust against him, on and on, until he burst apart, lost, her shaking under him.  

When he finally came back to himself he was on his side with Amanda curled against him, his arm holding her close. He took a breath, taking in her scent, her sweat and the smell of sex. He nestled closer and kissed her shoulder. He had not felt this peaceful in a long time. The pain was still there but duller and the anger was gone, for now.  

He felt a moment’s panic about Amanda, but it was almost a reflex rather than true concern that he had been too rough or had gone too far. She could not have been more clear that she could take - even more, wanted - whatever he could give. 

“Wow.” She stirred in his arms. “Here - let me see you.” 

He loosened his hold and she turned to face him. “Wow,” she said again. She kissed him, letting her mouth rest against his, moving soft and warm, before kissing around to his neck. “Don’t ask me if I’m OK,” she murmured against his skin. 

He smiled as he cradled her against him and kissed her hair. That was the first thing he had intended to ask. He kissed her again, and tasted the faintest trace of copper.

“Oh,” he said. “Baby, is your lip cut?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

He ran his tongue around his mouth and found the tender spot. “It’s me. Bit my own lip, I guess.” 

“You were a wild man.” She smiled and ran her hand down his arm. “Do you feel better?” 

He took a deep breath and she settled against him. “Yeah.” He pulled back to look at her, not saying any more, just searching her face. 

She finally laughed a little. “I’m fine. That was amazing. It just took everything away. It swept the whole world away.”

He felt his heart ease. He knew she was fine, but needed to hear it. She burrowed into his neck and he wrapped his arms, pulling her as close as could be. 

“I’m really glad you came to me,” she said softly, and at the shudder that shook him she spread her hand on his back, gently stroking,

“You are insane,” he said, just as softly. But he didn’t loosen his hold and lay there hearing her breathing and feeling her heart beat against him. 

 

Christian had tried to leave the house early for a quick hunting trip, but it got hot fast. He got a few rabbits and headed right back. A young buck broke through the underbrush and he itched to take it down, but there were still so few deer around he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

There was music from the parlor as he came in, so after dropping off the meat and gun on the porch he headed down the hall. After telling him her big shameful secret about listening to his music - he shook his head and grinned at the thought - she had something going on the CD player most days. It was usually something quiet if she was doing some art thing, and instrumental if she was reading. 

As he got closer he heard a strong beat, something fast and loud, and she was singing along, out of breath, to Robert Palmer, it sounded like. Maybe it was a cleaning day? It had been about two months since the first one, and the house was getting bad again. He didn’t care if she didn’t, though. 

He came around the corner. “Hey, Ama-” 

She was naked, stretching high, spinning, jumping, dancing to the music. He froze in the doorway. The music was loud, the player right next to her, and she faced away, so again he was watching her unawares. 

I should leave, he thought, but didn’t move. She spun toward him with eyes closed and head back, singing along, loud and staccato and stomping to the beat. “It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough. You're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to love.”    

His heart was pounding to match the music. He got to see her and touch her any time he wanted, but to see her like this, moving with abandon, joyful, her body shaking and flashing in front of him, was different. And especially something about her not knowing . . .

He finally started to move back out of sight just as she spun again and saw him.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I -” 

“I didn’t think you’d be back yet. I lost track of time.” She walked toward him, breathing hard, glistening with sweat. 

“It was warm, I didn’t stay out long.”

She was on him, hands in his hair pulling him down for a kiss, pushing her naked body up against him, her mouth hot and demanding. He staggered back a second before catching his balance. As he grabbed her ass she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him, arms locked around his neck and her hips grinding against his already hard cock. 

He tried to return her kisses as he took a few steps and swung her around to perch on the back of one the big leather sofas. She was already scrabbling his shorts down out of the way and he helped with one free hand, and within a minute of her spotting him in the doorway he was fucking her on the back of the couch, with her going crazy and him getting there fast. 

“Jesus, ‘Manda, what . . .” She swallowed his question with desperate kisses and was already convulsing on him, coming hard. He was too distracted with trying to hold them both up and keep her from falling over to climax, but five minutes later on his back on the pool table while she rode him like a bitch, he came just fine.  

After she came a second time - and maybe a third, he thought. That got pretty wild - she was finally exhausted and threw a leg over him as they cooled off, still on the pool table. 

“Um , , ,” He reached over to lay a hand on her waist. “What in the fuck was that?” His voice was still rough.  

“Mmm.” She just scooted a fraction of an inch to kiss his shoulder and he heard a happy sigh. He turned on his side with his hand on her breast and nuzzled her neck. Whatever it was, it was ok with him. 

It was a couple of minutes before she spoke, her voice quiet and pensive. “Before you came, when I just wasn’t feeling anything, dancing was the only way to let anything out. I almost hated doing it, because I would cry for two days. But now - I’ve dealt with some of that, I think. So a whole different emotion was coming out. I just felt alive, like I wasn’t afraid to feel anything.” She turned to him and drew her finger up his chest. “And you walked in at just the right time.”

He grinned and twined his hand in hers. “I’m glad.” 

“Me too.” 

“So - do you dance around naked a lot?” He tried to sound casual. 

“Sometimes.” 

“Since I got here?” 

“Yeah. Maybe more, because you’re here, and I’m not stuck crying for days.”

“Huh.” I guess the only surprise, he mused, is that he hadn’t caught her a lot more than twice. “I just wondered, ‘cause I hadn’t seen it.” 

“Usually when you’re out a while. It’d be a whole nother message if I started dancing around naked with you right there.” 

“I guess so.”  He bared his teeth in a grin. “Well, if you ever need me to step out so you can dance around you let me know, if I’m gonna come back to this wildcat.”       

 

Later that week, she had all the windows thrown open but it was still warm in the kitchen that late afternoon. She took a bite of one of the cookies she had just brought in from the solar oven. “Damnit.” She threw it at the counter and it bounced onto the floor.

“Amanda!” 

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the bowl to drop another blob of dough on the cookie sheet in front of her. “What,” she said softly. 

“Amanda!” She shook her head and frowned. Here she was up in the kitchen, and Christian was bellowing from clear down in the parlor. “AMANDA!”

“Fuck you,” she said in a quiet sing-song under her breath. She shoved the the full cookie sheet aside and looked at the dough left in the bowl. She finally scooped up a spoonful and popped it in her mouth and dropped the bowl on the counter just as Christian appeared in the doorway. 

“I was calling you.” 

“I know. I could hear you.” 

“Why didn’t you answer?”

“Why don’t you get off your ass and come find me? You’re as bad as my kids.” She grabbed the cookie sheet and brushed passed him toward the patio.

“I need your help with something. I wanna try this song again.” 

“I’m busy.” She let the screen door slam on him and he barely caught it. She put the cookie sheet in the solar oven and headed back in, forcing him to step out of the way. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He reached for her but she dodged him and headed back to the kitchen. 

“I want some chocolate.” She grabbed the plate of finished cookies off the counter. “All I have to work with is this damn cocoa powder, and I can’t get decent cookies.” She turned suddenly and whipped the plate against the wall. He flinched as cookies went flying all over the room and the plastic plate cracked in two. 

“Hon, are you ok?” 

“No!” she yelled. “I told you, these cookies are shit!”

He picked one up from where it had landed on the counter and took a bite. “Naw, this is really good.” 

“Oh, are you arguing with me now? Are you calling me a liar?” She glared at him. 

His eyes grew wide. “No, it’s just - I like it.” 

“Fuck you.” She turned away. “And this cake - it’s like sand. What am I supposed to do with no butter, no eggs, no milk. No chocolate, for God’s sake.” She gave the cake plate a hard shove. 

Christian stepped forward and caught it right before it flew off the counter onto the floor. He broke off a chunk and popped it in his mouth. “This is fine too. What’s going on?” 

“I told you! Don’t you ever listen to me? These cookies are terrible!” She spun around and pointed her finger. “And why were you yelling at me from the other end of the house? It’s not like you have to find me in a crowd. I guess I’m supposed to just fucking drop everything I’m doing and run to see what you want?” 

“No, hon. What’s. . .”

“Go to hell.” She turned away and pushed aside the mess on the counter. “Goddammit. I am sick of this.” She grabbed a clean bowl. “All I want is some chocolate. This sucks.” 

“I’m sorry, baby.” She was startled to find him right behind her and tensed when he slid his arms around her waist. 

“Get. Off.” she hissed. He jerked his arms wide and stepped back as quick as if he had grabbed a hot branding iron. 

“Yes, ma’am. What in the hell is going on?” 

“Nothing!” She scowled, grabbed a plastic bowl and threw it at him. It bounced off his hand. “What the hell do you want? Leave me alone!” She snatched a cookbook from the windowsill and flipped it open. She flung open a cabinet and did a double-take of Christian - he had stepped back and was standing by the counter with arms crossed, head lowered, feet set apart, glowering at her. At other times it had scared her when he was like this and she had to fight the urge to appease him and make it all better. Now she just felt her anger rising. 

“Oh, fuck you,” she snarled. “You’re mad at me? Piss off.” 

Christian’s heart was pounding and his hands clenched, folded tight against his chest. Before, he’d be gone. He had never tolerated this well, a woman mad for no reason and taking it out on him, laying into him when he didn’t do a goddamn thing. He’d grab his car keys or plane ticket and hit the door. He felt all that, muscles jumping to run, jaw clenched from things he'd better leave unsaid, his mind planning a route out of the room and out of her - 

He took a deep breath. Out of her life? No. Of course not. Where would he go? Why would he go without her?

He still was trembling with anger and the injustice of it all, holding himself taut and biting his tongue to keep from making any bad decisions, but in part of his mind it was as if he was watching the scene on TV. She slammed dishes and bowls, sweeping a crockery bowl half full of batter to the floor with crash. She was still fussing at him - “You can just go to hell. I’m supposed to be all scared and come running -” but every word didn’t catch him like a fishhook as it had a minute before. She wiped her face angrily with the back of her hand - tears? She was crying?

He dropped his arms and some of the angry tension eased. This wasn’t like her at all. And what kind of goddamn right do I have to give her shit about breaking dishes and yelling? he thought. He felt a different tension - he wanted to scoop her up and make it better, but she narrowed her eyes even at him unfolding his arms so he kept his distance.

She threw more dough on the baking sheet, then turned on him again. “What are you still doing in here?” she screamed, her voice breaking. 

He took another deep breath. This cold wash of fear over him and the rock in the pit of his stomach was familiar. This was the same tight helpless feeling as when she was curled up in the pink bedroom, crying and sending him away. She scooped some cookies from the counter and threw them at him as hard as she could. He caught one in midair and took a bite. “Fuck you!” she yelled, and he could hear half a sob this time. 

“Hey.” He sharpened his voice, snapping at her, and as he hoped it got her attention. She stopped. her breathing hitched and her eyes wide on him. He softened his look and voice, waiting half a beat before saying slowly and deliberately, “Do you want me to go?” 

She glared at him, chin up, eyes hard, hands fisted at her side. He leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms again but casually, with no tension as best he could, and looked a little over her shoulder, instead of right at her. He felt like he was trying to gentle a jaguar, to not be a threat but not back down or she would go for his throat. 

She finally turned away. “No,” she snapped.   

“All right, then. That’s what I’m doing here.” He took a few slow, deep breaths as she turned her back to him and fussed with the mess on the counter. He only flinched a little when a plate hit the floor and shattered. His instinct was to match anger with anger, and his body so wanted to snap into attack mode, or at least defense. He rolled his shoulders to keep the tension out, to keep from standing up tall and wide and aggressive. He could feel it with every dagger-filled glance she shot at him, the impulse to square up and dare her to bring it on, as she threw around flour and sugar and whipped frantically at the mixture in the bowl.  

One of his skills as an actor, though, was that his face and body showed - mostly - what he wanted it to, if he was focused. He kept his expression interested and warm and as neutral as he could - not amused at all, though. He casually stood and centered himself, in case something physical was needed. Every time she glanced over, she hopefully saw him just there, not a threat but there when she needed him. 

Some of the tension in her body started to ease, although her movements were still jerky and fast. She was wiping more tears. 

“It’s not fair,” she muttered finally. 

“I know, baby,” he said softly, warm and without an edge at all, as best he could.  

“I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

“It’s ok.” 

“I just wanted some cookies.” She didn’t bother to wipe the tears now. “All that chocolate gone to waste. I’m just so sick of everything. I’m so tired of it.” 

“I know.” The hardest thing right now was to not go sweep her up.

She gave a long ragged sigh. “I’m so sick of crying.” She dropped the bowl and any pretense at baking and leaned on the counter, head bowed. Her shoulders shook with her gasping breathing, but he didn’t hear sobs. 

He took a step forward. “Baby, can I hold you?” 

He froze when she shook her head, two quick but unmistakable movements.

Well, shit. How was he supposed to fix this, then? He didn’t like this, standing here helpless, watching her in pain. When had she ever not come to him for comfort, since they met? And there was not one goddamn thing to say. It’s ok? It’ll be alright? She would probably throw something at him again.

“We keep pretending this is normal. What are we doing here? What is the point?” She swallowed a gasping sob and shook her head angrily. He could just feel her determination from here - she was not goddammit going to cry. Ah - that was why she didn’t want him to touch her. As soon as he did she would fall apart. He reached back and grabbed the counter’s edge to keep himself from the two long strides that would have her wrapped up in his arms. 

“I know, sweetheart. It’s not normal,” he murmured.  

“Why are we here? Why us?” she demanded, still not facing him. 

“I do not know.” 

“Were we supposed to die, too? How could this be happening?” 

“I don’t know that either, darlin’.” 

She looked up to gaze out the window and absently picked up the bowl, stirring again. He eased his grip on the counter as her breathing slowed and the tension in her shoulders eased. 

“Have you ever had no-bake oatmeal cookies?” she asked. 

It took him just a second to process her question - he was expecting something different. “What?” 

 

She didn’t look back at him before focusing again on her batter, but she could hear where he was. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the counter. She had been so ready for a fight, and he was too. The glower, the crossed arms, his teeth set as if he could take a bite out of leather - she knew it wasn’t reasonable, none of this was his fault. But for a few moments it didn’t matter, and someone was going to get hurt. Probably me, she thought.

And then he just - stopped. She saw it during an angry glance, he just eased, the anger draining from him, all the hard planes of his face turning soft. She knew he did it on purpose. He was so damned deliberate, sometimes. She wanted to yell at him about that, too, but felt her anger start to fade as well.   

She swallowed hard. “No-bake cookies. You melt the sugar and butter - well, I guess I’ll use coconut oil. Who knows what that will do to it. And peanut butter, and this stupid cocoa powder, and mix in oatmeal. They make little fudgy lumps.” She shrugged. “Maybe that will satisfy my chocolate urge.” 

His voice was cautious. “I don’t think I have, hon.” 

He hadn’t moved. Good. Her hands were still trembling, though her heart was finally starting to slow down. Tears started to well up again and she stopped still and squeezed her eyes tight until she was back under control. 

She didn’t want to mess with the big stove just to melt some oil and peanut butter so she dug out a little portable camp stove and set it up, shoving some of the mess into the sink to make room, never turning to fully face Christian. 

“Baby?” 

She answered after a few moments. “Yeah.” 

“You ok?” 

Her heart pounded, hard thumps she could feel through her body and again she had to fight back tears. “Don’t fucking ask me if I’m OK.”   

“Ok, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. 

“I hate it when you ask me that.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. His voice was low and warm, with that accent a little strong and no steel or iron or growl, just honey. 

She tightened her lips and had an impulse to turn and yell at him again, to tell him to quit trying to charm her and make it all better. She took a breath and adjusted the little burner, stirring the sugar down. She heard him shift and cocked her head, but he was only moving where he was, not coming toward her. 

How he somehow knew to keep his distance she wasn’t sure, but she was grateful. If he came at her she would throw something a lot harder than a plastic bowl or a cookie. If he came up behind her, not touching but so she could feel his warm breath and the heat radiating from his body, if he slipped a hand around her waist and kissed her neck, pulling her back against him, all warm and solid and safe, she would break down.  

She glanced back at him once as she plopped spoonfuls of chocolate oatmeal batter on baking sheets. He had leaned back again, thumbs hooked in his pockets, interested but calm. “This kitchen is too hot for these to even set up.” she said. “I wonder if they’d firm up down in the pantry. It’s a little cooler.”

His voice was a low rumble, still from across the kitchen. “Can I run ‘em down there for ya?” 

She took a full breath, then turned and faced him. She just looked at him a moment and saw it again, a set to his jaw and tension in his shoulders drain away as she watched. “Yeah, that would be great. Thank you.”

He returned her smile. “You got it.”  

He stepped forward to accept the trays and headed down the basement steps. She wiped her hands on her shorts, then held her palm up in front of her face. She felt better, though still a little quivery, and it showed in the trembling of her hand.   

Christian was back, pausing at the top of the steps, watching her casually and carefully. She met his gaze and smiled, and his relief was evident in his return grin. “Baby,” she said, “I’m gonna go take a nap. I need . . . I’m exhausted. I’ll be down later.” 

“Alright. Do you want company?” 

“No.” She didn’t know if she saw or felt the sudden tension from him for just a moment before he quelled it. It was maybe a set to his jaw or eyes narrowed, but then it was gone. “It’s OK,” she said. “I’ll be down in a while.” 

“Sure. Have a nice nap.” 

 

Christian watched as Amanda left the kitchen, cutting through the atrium to get to the stairs. He’d hoped she’d let him come along, but she didn’t even come to him for a hug before heading up. He stood, one hand at his waist, the other tugging his hair back. He had never seen her like that before and he didn’t like it, but on the other hand - 

“About damn time,” he muttered. She had as much right as he did to be angry, and maybe he was glad she finally let it out instead of going all hollow and blank. 

He glanced around, then looked again and whistled. The kitchen looked like a hurricane had hit it. She had broken more than just the couple dishes he had seen. Baking supplies were thrown and dumped. There were as best he could tell four kinds of cookies and the cake, and the plate he’d seen wasn’t the first that had hit the wall.

“Damn. Where was I for all this?” He’d come in from the yard and headed right up to his music studio. He started cleaning up, eating cookies as he went, grabbing the last batch out of the oven. There was one kind he liked better than the others but they were all fine.

He waited as long as he could stand it, keeping himself busy in the kitchen, before he went to check on her. She was in their room, sound asleep, under a blanket even as warm as it was. As silently as he could he stepped closer to see her face, and felt a frisson of relief that he did not see the tracks of tears. She did, however, have a teddy bear tucked in her arms. 

The kitchen was about back in shape and he was peeking in on her for the fourth time several hours later.   
“Hey,” her voice was heavy with sleep.

“Hey, hon.” He stepped into the room. 

“Will you come cuddle with me?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” His shoes and shirt were off and he was crawling under the covers within seconds. “Ah, that’s better.” He slid up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and nestling in. “That was driving me crazy, that I couldn’t get my hands on you when you were having such a hard time.” 

“I feel better now.” 

“I’m glad.” He nuzzled her neck and rested his head on her. “Do you really hate it when I ask if you’re OK?” 

“Sometimes. What am I supposed to say?” 

“Mmm.” He kissed her neck and onto her shoulder and sighed at the familiar sensation of her melting and cuddling into him. “I ate most of your cookies.” 

“Good. I didn’t want them.” 

“I saved some from the last batch, if you want to try them.” He kissed her neck again, lingering. “You did a number on the kitchen.”

“Whatever. I’ll get to it.” 

“You . . .” You OK, he’d been about to ask. He sighed and sank into her, dropping light kisses everywhere he could reach, filling up his senses with her scent and feel. That whole thing had scared him more than he’d realized. 

She turned over in his arms. Her gaze was warm and soft. “You,” she teased. “I’m fine. Thanks.” She sighed. “I don’t know what got into me. I knew it wasn’t your fault, but if you hadn’t backed down there was gonna be a fight.”

“You were gonna take me on?” 

“Oh, yeah. You were going down.” 

He rolled up on an elbow to see her, but didn’t turn her loose. “There was this time I was so fucking pissed at you.” 

“When?” 

“What was it, not the beads and playdough - what was that shit you were making with the sticks?” 

“The weaving?”

“No, the dowels and rubber bands.” 

“Oh, right! I was making kinetic sculptures. You use the tension of the rubber bands to counterbalance . . .” she trailed off, grinning, as he shook his head. 

“Whatever, babe. You messed with that for days. I’d come looking for you and there you’d be, happy as a clam, playing with sticks. I was about to lose it. I think that was when the booze wasn’t really working anymore, and I didn’t realize it yet.” Her eyes were wide and she stroked up and down his back as she listened. 

“I got to where I couldn’t stand it,” he growled. “I was going insane, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything, and there you were, happy as . . . as a fucking elf playing with goddamn rubber bands. ” He took a breath. “It just didn’t seem fair.”  

“Wow. I’m so sorry, sweetie. Why didn’t you say anything?” She cuddled a little closer.  There we go, he thought. He scooped her right up to him and kissed her hair.  

“Naw,” he said. “I’m just saying I understand getting mad at the only other person around when it gets to be too much. What was I going to say, quit being so fucking happy?” He held her close and listened to her even breathing. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

“Hmm?”  

“I remember doing the sculptures, of course. I don’t remember you being so mad, though. We ate together and stuff, so I saw you. How did I not know you were so upset?” 

“I was trying to stay out of your way, because I could tell I wasn’t fit company.” He pulled back to see her and let a little mischief show, a glint in his eye. “I finally came and dragged you off to bed and we fucked for hours. Then I felt better.” 

“Oh, God,  _ that _ I remember!” He grinned when she wiggled against him. “That was a good one.”    



	25. Chapter 25 - I can't get what I want?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda thinks she knows so much about him. Wouldn't he get tired of that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian Kane or his music.

The tomatoes were coming in faster than they could use them, so it was probably well into July. They had gotten creative with tomatoes for every meal and had made a few trips to get supplies and set up some solar dehydrators, so not too much was going to waste. Christian was almost overwhelmed at the amount of fresh produce they had coming in, although Amanda had known what to expect. Twenty tiny tomato seedlings might not look like much in April, but in July it was a tsunami. 

The sweet corn had come in and was heavenly. They had treated themselves to a few ears, but Amanda was adamant about saving it for seed. 

He did a lot of his music up in his studio room now, but she found him in the downstairs music room, picking through a song. 

He looked up briefly. “Hey.” 

“Hey, you.” She curled up on the daybed. “When you’re done, can I brush out your hair?” 

“Um, yeah.” He didn’t look up from his guitar. “Gimme a . . .” He trailed off as he made a mark in his notebook and strummed a few chords, humming along. 

She leaned back and watched. She didn’t always hang out anymore when he worked on music. She still enjoyed it, though, seeing him get so lost in his own world. 

“Alright. Good enough for gummint work.” He put his guitar aside and joined her on the daybed. “I ain’t seen you since this afternoon. What’ve you been up to?”  

“Started another weaving project.” 

“That’s nice.” He came in for a kiss and kept kissing, coming at her until she was laying back on the bed. 

“What was that?” she murmured against him. 

“Hmm?”

“What were you playing? It sounded like  _ Track 29.” _

“Haven’t thought of that one in a while.” He propped up on an elbow and dropped an arm over her waist. “Just somethin’ I was working on. Why’d you say  _ Track 29? _ ”

“That one part sounded familiar.” She sang softly, “Sit on the floor and lock the door, dancin' with a bottle.”  
“Huh.” He swung his feet to the floor and reached for the guitar. “Let me see.” He noodled through the piece he’d been playing when she walked in, working his way into the song she had heard.

 

Given the tone of your delivery   
'Happy to see you' kinda blew right by,   
And the Delta winds keep trickin' me   
Did I hear your words aright?   
  
She said she found the arms of another man.   
Yeah, to tell you the truth man   
She should've lied.   
Mississippi lyin' in the middle   
Of a bed of nails tonight

 

“Yeah, I can hear that. I didn’t even realize it.” He put the instrument aside and lay down with her again, nuzzling into her neck.

She cradled his head. “Who was that about?” 

He chuckled. “Saw that comin’.” He propped up again to see her. “Kim. Girl I saw for a while in Nashville. Now, that one was  _ not _ my fault.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“We were together about six months, and I thought things were going great. I found out she’d been fucking someone else almost the whole fuckin’ time, and lying right to my face.”

“Were other ones your fault?” 

He sighed and left off again nibbling on her neck, rolling to his back. “It was either my temper or my drinking or my working too hard. Other times it was sure as hell my fault somehow, but I never did figure out what the fuck I did.”  

“Poor baby.” It was her turn to prop up as he lay back with his hands under his head, smiling at her as she stroked his face.  

“Yeah, poor me.”

“You were always so hard on yourself,” she said softly. 

“What?” 

“Well, even in  _ Dusty Rose _ and  _ In the Darkness, _ the love songs, there are lines about how you aren’t good enough for them and you have to change. Hell, you had a song called  _ More Than I Deserve. _ What was the other one - ‘friends say in a shushed kinda way, how’d he get a girl like that.’” His grin faded and he looked away from her. 

“ _ All I Did Was Love Her,”  _ he finally said.

“I’ve thought of that before, wondering how much you always had to change for other people.” She felt tension in his jaw as she cradled his cheek and he glanced away and down, not meeting her gaze. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you ever get sick of this,” she said. “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you found someone who didn’t think she knew so much about you?”  

He let out a long breath. “Nah, baby,” he said, but not very convincingly, she thought. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do from the songs, though. It’s like telling a story, not writing a fucking autobiography.”  

“Oh, I believe that. It was all I had, though. I thought that part of you was in your characters, but that was acting. You were so sweet in the interviews, but that was a role, too. I thought maybe you were most yourself in your music and at your concerts.”

“You sure spent a lot of time thinking about someone you never met.”  

“Yes, I did.” 

He finally looked back to meet her gaze, softening to a smile. “You know me well enough by now, I guess.”    

“Who did you think you’d find, though?” she persisted. “Did you ever think about if it was a Kaniac?” 

“I tell you what, I never thought I’d find only one person. I thought I would find the survivors - the camp or whatever with everyone who was left. And I’ll be honest with ya.”  He shifted to glance at her with a half-grin. “For what little I did think about it, I thought if I found a fan they wouldn’t give me so much shit.”

“Do I give you shit?” she asked.  He didn’t even answer, just shook his head, but his grin was broader and there was a glint in his eye. “I think you like it, though,” she continued. 

“You do make life interesting,” he said. “What about you?  Am I what you expected?” 

“Well, I expected to meet you about as much as I expected to meet the president. I think it really took weeks for me to realize you were real and I wasn’t hallucinating in my coma. But, once I got over that, a couple things surprised me.”

“Yeah?”   

“One, like - your intensity?  You couldn’t tell from videos and interviews what it would be like to be the focus of your attention. You pay so much attention to me, and you’re so affectionate - so physical. Even just how you look at me. It’s wonderful, but it takes some getting used to.”  

“Huh.”   

“What?” 

“I just didn’t think of it that way.” He swung up to sit, pulling her up against him. “Well, before, there was a lot of shit competing for my attention. Most women I was with complained at some point that I was too focused on work and didn’t pay enough attention to them.” He paused a moment to consider. “All right - what’s the other? If I want to hear it.” 

“Well, like I said before with your music - how hard you are on yourself. You just couldn’t hardly believe I wanted to be with you, and you were so sure you messed it up.”

“Still not too sure.”

“And you call me crazy.”

She could feel where he shook his head against hers. “So you didn’t expect me - what did you expect?” he asked. 

“What I really expected, if I found a man or men and not women or a family or community or something, was that I would end up raped if I couldn’t get away. I could sort of tell how crazy I had gotten. If I decided I was only going to do what I wanted, wouldn’t he do the same? And with no rules or law or anything - I dunno.”

Christian became very still against her. “What?” she asked. 

“I hate to think of it,” he said, his voice a growl. 

“Well, do you think I’m wrong? Think of the guys you knew, what kinds of things they joked about, and how some them would act if after four years they were alone with a woman with no consequences or repercussions.”

She could feel the tension in his arm around her. “I don’t like to think about it,” he said again.

“When you saw me, didn’t you think -” 

“When I saw you, all I could think was not to scare you off, because I knew right then I couldn’t take one more minute alone.”

“But didn’t -”

“I already goddamn said twice I don’t want to think about it. There’s no point dwelling -” He stopped and took a deep breath. “What do I gotta do to get you to change the subject?”

“I guess you’ll have to distract me somehow.” 

“I guess I will.” He slid her to her back, kissing on her neck and inching his hands up under her shirt, and she forgot all about brushing out his hair.  

  
  


A few days later, after a restless morning, she again found him at his music, this time up in the blue bedroom he had taken over for a music studio. He looked up and grinned. “Hey, sweetheart.” 

“Hey.” She walked over and leaned against his back, sliding an arm around his chest. He shifted to adjust and give her room but kept playing. She nuzzled his neck but he didn’t respond, so she reached up and plucked at the strings at the neck of the guitar. 

“Don’t, hon, I’m trying to work this out.” 

“Ok.” But a few seconds later she did it again, twanging the strings with a fingernail while he strummed. 

“Amanda -” 

“What?” 

“Cut it out.” 

“I’m helping.” She reached around the other side and strummed over the body.

“No you are fucking not.” 

She kept messing with the strings, sliding her other arm around his neck. 

“What the fuck do you want?” he grumbled, trying to pulling the guitar out of her each. 

“What the hell do you think I want?” She tightened her arm around his neck and left the guitar strings, sliding her hand down his shirt, rubbing his cock through his shorts as she nibbled on his neck next to his ponytail. 

“We just did it a couple hours ago.” 

“Is that a problem?” She stroked him with her fingertips, grinning against his neck when she felt him move and start to grow. 

He sighed but she could feel his pulse speed up under her mouth. “Let me finish this and then we’ll go back to bed.” 

“Oh, sure.” She nipped his neck and he caught his breath. “You can throw me down at the top of the steps and take what you want anytime you want, but I can’t get what I want?” 

He got very still. She knew now he was worried.

Good, she thought. She bit him again, letting her teeth rest on shoulder and pulling her arm a little more snugly against his neck. She had loved that, a few weeks ago. He was so overwhelmed by all that anger and fear, and he had trusted her and come to her and swept her world away. 

He put the guitar aside and put his hand over her arm. “When do you ever not get what you want?”   

“Right this minute.” 

“Baby, what . . .” His hand stroked her arm and he tried to turn, but she tightened her elbow against his throat. Certainly nothing he couldn’t get out of in a second, but again he stilled, trying to figure out what she wanted. 

She bit him a third time, a little harder, and he hissed in surprised. She stroked him and grabbed his cock through the shorts. 

“What the fuck do you want? Here, let go . .” He tried to ease her arm away. 

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” She murmured in his ear. He finally growled, a little sound like he was getting exasperated, and her heart pounded. She knew three ways to get out of a short chokehold from behind, but didn’t know how to hang onto someone who knew how to get out. When he got tired of this, she might end up on the floor, or against the wall. Her breath caught at the thought, little gasps over and over, and she felt him harden further under her hand. 

“What the hell? Amanda, come on.” 

“Come on what?” 

He slid his hand up her arm around his neck, cradling her fist with his other hand. She tightened her arm and tried to brace herself, but sure enough he shifted his weight and she was overbalanced, sliding around him. He caught her and slowed her fall right before she hit the ground. He followed her down and she breathed a sigh of relief and felt tears sting her eyes when she felt his hard body half on her, his hands in her hair and his eyes were searching her face, his brow furrowed. 

“Darlin’, what’s going on?” he murmured, brushing her hair back. 

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, more tears welling up, and he gently brushed them away. 

“The other day, at the top of the stairs . . .” he said softly.

“I loved it. You know that. I wished you trusted me.”

“Trusted - what are talking about?” 

She could only shake her head. She wanted to kiss him - no, she wanted him to kiss her. Her heart was pounding and she just wanted everything to go away.

He finally leaned toward her and gently touched his mouth to hers, sweet and slow, but she met him as if starving. He grunted in surprise when she twisted her hands in his hair, pulling him to her and pushing back against his tongue. She went after him, frantic, until she had rolled them over and she was looking down at him, breathing hard. 

“Don’t let me get away with that,” she whispered. 

His frown of concern turned to a head tilt and set jaw. He pushed against her but she braced a leg on the floor and resisted, not moving easily. 

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” he murmured with just a bit of a growl. 

“You keep promising that.”

Her heart pounded as he shifted, pushing against her, but she pressed back as hard as she could. He shifted once and she anticipated it, meeting his movement and holding her ground. She felt him tense, then he swept her leg out from under her with his and she was on her back before she knew it. His body had her pinned as he stroked her cheek. 

“Now what do you want, little troublemaker?” 

“Make it go away,” she pleaded through the tears that she couldn’t help. She caught her breath at the look on his face, the raw pain she saw there, then he was gone. He rolled away and jumped to his feet, out of reach. A sob shook her as she started to curl up on her side around the pain in her chest. He had abandoned her. He had given up, she was too needy, she had to survive this alone and she couldn’t - 

She jumped at the warm, strong arm around her back and another under her knees as he rolled her to her back and then scooped her up, holding her close against his chest. He took two steps and laid her on the bed, following her down, his warmth and weight anchoring her. 

“It’s gone,” he murmured, cradling her head. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” She choked out a sob as she clung to him, the pain in her chest easing against his fast beating heart, the heat of his body and his arms around her. “I’ve gotcha,” he murmured. “I’m right here, baby.” 

Even as she gasped for breath, she was pulling at his shirt and sliding a hand under his shorts while she frantically returned his kisses. “Fuck me, please,” she groaned when he kissed around to her neck. “Make it go away.” 

He sat up enough to whip his shirt off then was back on her, burrowing into her neck, kissing on the spot that drove her crazy while his hands worked at their clothes. He kissed away the tears and then finally she was naked against him, wrapped around him, head buried against his neck. She took a long, ragged breath and let it soak in, the scent of him and his hands on her back and her ass, his murmured words of reassurance and kisses everywhere he could reach. She wanted more, though. She still had thoughts in her head, she still could remember holding Ryan when he died and felt her chest tighten again at the thought of the empty crib in the house she’d been in that morning. 

She wanted Christian to make it go away, to overwhelm her and swamp every thought, but he was being too careful and worried, too deliberate. His kisses and touches right now were for her, not him taking what he wanted. She pulled back and met his gaze, her chin lifted in challenge, and pushed on his chest, sliding out from under his arms. She got halfway out from under him when his strong arm wrapped around her and yanked her back against him. His hand was hard on her breast, his cock grinding against her ass. She moaned and bucked against him and felt him ease enough for her to get away again. 

She pushed hard, sliding away, and this time he put his hands on her and flipped to to her back with ease, landing on top of her. For a moment she truly was helpless, pinned under him, his eyes glittering and teeth clenched like he was the wolf and she was Red Riding Hood. Her heart pounded and the world contracted to just him and the rush of blood in her head. Just as she started to struggle, though, and sink into that space of just sensation and safety no matter what, he loosened again, pulling back to look at her and breathing hard.    

All she wanted right now was to fight, to try to get away and make him come after her and take control again. It was too close, though - another moment and he would turn her loose and back off, and instead of being protected she would be left comforting him. She took a deep breath and let herself soften. He felt it and growled against her neck, his movements becoming more frantic and forceful now that she had yielded to him.  

They had worked out an uneasy truce about how far she could push him before he grew afraid of losing control. If she gave in, submitted and yielded to him when she teased him and he caught her and pinned her to a wall or dropped her on a bed, they would continue and her world would be blown away. If she fought too long, she was likely to see that flinty look and feel the steel of his body hard against her. She might feel his hands on her wrists holding her tight but just for just a few seconds, releasing her before she had time to struggle as he stepped back or rolled away, breathing hard. 

He kissed down, settling in with his mouth on one breast and hand on the other. She arched under him, heat building, and her hands found their way into his hair, loose now around them. She tensed her fingers, tightening them in his hair, and when his teeth grazed her nipple and sent a shock through her she arched her back and cried out, pulling hard on his long hair wrapped around her hands. His responding groan, hands harder on her, and the tension in his body finally started to overwhelm her thoughts and she moved against him, letting herself get swept away. 

The first few times had truly been by accident - she had been carried away and didn’t realize how hard she was pulling his hair. He didn’t like it just randomly pulled - he reacted like any normal person - but now, like this, when she was lost in the world he created for her, he loved it. It brought out an answering passion in him, to know he caused her to lose control like that. She didn’t tell him she knew, or that she was doing on purpose now. She loved, though, having a way to heighten their lovemaking, to get him to let go and come after her. 

He kissed on down her body, hand between her legs, and she moaned in anticipation of his mouth on her. She tightened her thighs and felt a rush of pleasure as he put his hands on her and spread her open against her resistance. Somehow she got away with that - it didn’t trigger his fear to force her legs apart for him. Then his mouth was on her, and she had just a second to be glad now that he knew her so well and was doing his best to make her insane before she was swept away and the world disappeared in an incandescent explosion.

 

She came back to herself wrapped in his arms, cool and clammy from sweat, tender in spots, and finally with mind and soul peaceful, for the moment. She felt a pleasant ache throughout her body, and winced as she shifted - one nipple was a little sore from too much attention, although she loved it at the time and the ache would fade shortly. 

“You feel better?” he murmured against her neck.  

“Much. Thank you.” 

She felt the vibration of his warm chuckle. “You don’t have to thank me, darlin’.”

“Mmm.” She settled close against him, smiling to feel him wrap more tightly around her and pull her in close. 

“You were being a real piss-ant,” he said softly. 

“Mmm-hmm. I got what I wanted, though.”

“Rotten,” he grumbled against her neck. 

“I wouldn’t have to go through all that if you weren’t so stubborn.” 

He pulled back to see her, stroking her hair back. “You OK?” he asked. She grinned, and he returned it. She didn’t always like it when he asked that, but his need to ask was greater than her irritation, so that’s how  _ that  _ went.   

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Just the usual. I was thinking about Ryan. So much was happening - when he actually died is just a blur. I barely remember. And this morning I found a crib in a house over on Landen. A full baby bottle was still in it.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, it just hit me.”  

“I know, baby. I’m glad you came to me.” 

“You sure made me work for it, though.” 

“I’ll pay more attention next time.” 


	26. Chapter 26 - Look at those curves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has his guard down - he never would have said anything like that before!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Christian Kane, sundresses, or that special Cincinnati humidity.

August 

Month 5

 

It had been a long, hot day. Cincinnati in August is miserable, Amanda thought. They had taken a dip in the hot tub, not bothering to heat it up and it was still lukewarm, and Christian was waiting up in bed for her. It had been too hot to touch for a couple of days so Amanda was kind of antsy to get up there and get ahold of him. 

It was twilight as she finished up, dropping the basket of bath gel and lotions on the porch and throwing the damp towels over the clothesline. She padded naked up the stairs to the bedroom, warm and humid even with all three windows wide open. 

When she walked into the bedroom it was lighter than usual - he had a bright camping lantern lit as well as the usual candles. 

“Wow,” he said, his grin wide. His hair had gotten longer, way past his shoulders now, and was loose in damp waves from the dip. He was tan from the amount of time they spent outside, his shoulders broad and chest defined from his daily workouts and chopping wood. His blue eyes were intense on her as he sat nude in the bed, covers kicked back, waiting for her. 

“What?” she asked from the doorway as she came in.

“You look fucking amazing. I didn’t realize how much you filled out.” 

She stopped. “What?” she asked again.

“You look great. Look at all those curves. Come here.” He patted the bed next to him.

She just stood there, looking at him. “Did you just say I’ve put on weight?” 

“I said you look fucking amazing. And come here.”

“You just said I’ve gotten fat.”  

“What? No I fucking didn’t!” He sat up straight, alarm on his face. “I said I love it. Look at those curves.”

She stalked toward the bed. “You are so goddamn lucky . . .” she climbed up on the bed and kept coming toward him, “that I don’t care.” She crawled right over top of him and then she was in his arms and he was wrapped around her. 

“No, baby, I love it. I didn’t mean . . .” 

“I know. I was teasing,” she said. “You’ve filled out, too.” She ran her hand over his shoulder and down over his chest. “It’s more of a compliment for a guy, though.”

“No, I didn’t mean . . .”

“I know, Christian. It’s OK.”

He rolled until she was under him and she sighed and relaxed against him. 

His eyes were intent on her, though, and he wasn’t smiling. “Amanda, I love it. I didn’t mean anything.”  

“It’s fine!” She laughed and touched his cheek. “My God, look at the panic on your face. I’m not mad. I thought it was funny.” 

“Good.” He took a deep breath and lay his head on his arm, looking at her, his arm still  around her waist. “Fuck, that scared me for a second.” 

“Did you get in trouble for saying stuff like that before?” 

“I knew goddamn better than to say anything like that before. You’ve got my guard down.”

“Awww.” She grinned and felt a warmth in her chest. They were already sticky in the heat, but she laid her arm on his and pulled him closer.   

“Anyway,” he propped up on his elbow and looked down her body as his hand explored the curves of her breasts and waist and hips, “If I was with someone, she was tellin’ me all about how she was gaining weight way before I ever noticed.” 

He hesitated and his gaze flew back up to her face. “Not that I noticed you gaining weight. I just love this, something to get ahold of.” 

Again his eyes and hand wandered, then stopped again as he realized what he had said. “Not that I didn’t like it before. I loved it when you were thinner.” His eyes grew wide. “Wait . .”  

She was outright laughing at him now. “I’m so tempted to just let you go on and see what happens.”

“I’m glad you’re fucking amused.” His words were a growl but he had that little crooked grin and slid an arm around her back to pull her up against him. 

“Oh, I am. That was hilarious.” She was chuckling as he kissed her, soft and sweet. 

When he pulled back she was still grinning. “Anything else you want to say about how I look? Because that was pretty funny.” 

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “I surely do not know what got into me, to say something like that. I think I’ve had women leave me for less.”

“Wow. I think even before that wouldn’t have bothered me that much.” 

“Well, remember I dated a lot of models and actresses. Oh, yeah.” He chuckled. “Me and my buddies knew to say nothin’ but how gorgeous they were, because you never knew what kind of shitstorm you were gonna stir up otherwise.”  

“I can’t imagine living like that,” she said. “That’s a whole different world.”

He was up on one elbow again, looking her up and down. “Wow.” And again, his hand all over her and he was kissing on her neck, working his way down. “I don’t know how I haven’t noticed this lately,” he murmured between nibbles. 

“I’ve never felt so appreciated in my life.” She lay back and stretched out with her hands over her head on the pillow and just let herself melt. Two broad warm hands moved over her, his mouth following, then he pulled back just to look at her again. It was fascinating to see the play of expressions across his face. When he glanced up to meet her gaze his smile was sweet or mischievous, and he was so open and happy when he came in for kisses.     

Worshipping her body, though, was apparently serious business. His smile faded and his jaw was set as he moved over her and studied how her breasts filled his hands, shifting the weight of her back and forth. He was intent and earnest as he outlined with his broad palms the swoop of her waist up to her hip, down over her belly, and around to grab her ass, squeezing and molding her. 

His long hair tickled across her skin as he slid an arm around her and pulled her up to her side facing him, then slid down until her breasts were in his face. He rested against her soft skin and nuzzled and licked and suckled.  

It all felt good, hot and overwhelming, but as soon as the heat started to build in her and she was moving against him he was on to the next spot, kissing down her arm to the soft skin on her inner elbow, or burrowing between her thighs for a quick nuzzle and lick before traveling up to capture her breasts again.   

“Oh my God, Christian, this . . .” she gasped. She caught just a glimpse of a grin as he moved over her, filling her vision before settling on her throat, kissing on her as he had that first night, but so much more sure of himself, and of her. She could feel her pulse throb under his mouth and her hands were wrapped in his hair, pulling tight. 

It went on and on, his nibbles and sucking on her neck while his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. He rolled them back and forth, shifting her to reach down and pull her ass tight against him, and then up to her breast, and then cradling her head. 

Usually he touched her for her pleasure, although he enjoyed every bit of it. Tonight, though, he was like a kid in a playground, exploring and playing just for the sheer joy of it. She just lay back and reveled in it, letting him touch her, move her, explore and dive in. 

The heat and pressure of his body on hers was gone and she was about to open her eyes and look for him when she felt a kiss on the arch of her foot, then his hands sliding up her calf. She arched her back and caught her breath at the kisses and strokes and teasing, tickling touches on her thighs. She felt his warm hands spread her legs and then his mouth was on her, tasting and stroking. 

“Oh - God -” She could barely speak, could barely think. He usually avoided her clit until the end, when he wanted her to come, but this time he was all over, his tongue sliding through all the folds, in her, just diving in. 

It stopped for a moment and she felt him nibble on her thigh. “I want you to come for me, come all over my face,” he said, and he was back, she couldn’t even tell what he was doing, but she felt strong hands on her thighs holding her open and what felt like a sun at the core of her, the heat burrowing into her. 

It was almost too much, it was too much, she couldn’t take it, and then she exploded, that wasn’t enough of a word but there wasn’t any other. She kept coming and coming, her body shaking, and it was because he was on her, in her, taking her, filling her up. He hadn’t waited for her to recover enough to try to reach for him, to beg him, but had known that this was what she would want, for him to complete it. 

And it was what he wanted, too, to feel her coming around him, to be a part of the world he created for her, and to have his world explode as well and leave part of himself with her.

 

As warm as it was, they were still wrapped up together the next morning and they woke early, sticky and hot. Amanda eased away and then rolled back to face him. 

“Hey.” He smiled at her. 

“Hey, you.” She reached up to push back his hair, sweaty and stuck to his forehead. “That was fucking amazing last night.”

He chuckled. “That was my line.” His grin was wide. “I’m glad you liked it. I loved it. I can’t believe you let me do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Just mess with you like that.”

“Are you kidding me? Why would I not?” 

He shrugged. “I dunno. Not everyone woulda let me just play around and grab whatever I want. Well, by rights I should of got kicked out of bed from that whole stupid conversation when you came in.” 

“That was so funny! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words before.”   

He grinned and shook his head. “Glad you enjoyed it.” 

 

By early afternoon Christian sat on the loveseat on the porch cleaning his gun, as far back in the shade as he could be, not that it helped. He grew up in Oklahoma and Texas so it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to summer heat, but there was something special about Cincinnati humidity. They had talked about taking off and heading north until they got someplace cooler, but that would mean losing the rest of the summer garden. She didn’t care, but he hadn’t decided yet. 

His eye caught a flash of yellow and he looked up to see Amanda emerge from her path to the woods and head toward the house. The full, gauzy sundresses she favored lately hinted at but didn’t show off how full and lush she had gotten. 

That was the only excuse he had, he figured, for how ridiculous he had been last night when she walked into the bedroom. That, and you don’t notice how people change when you’re with them every day. He was lucky she was so tolerant - he still couldn’t believe that whole performance hadn’t gotten him kicked out of bed.

He let the gun rest on his lap and watched her. Instead of getting mad, she had just lay back, laughing at him, and let him put his hands and mouth and body all over her, completely unselfconscious as he buried his face in her breasts, got ahold her her ass, and kissed down across her belly and thighs. He had felt like a kid at a candy store with permission to get whatever he wanted, or at Christmas after his folks won the lottery. Every time he had looked up at her she was smiling at him with shining eyes, enjoying his pleasure in her. 

 

He raised a hand in greeting as she got closer but she couldn’t see him in the shadows of the porch. Just a bit of a breeze kicked up, fluttering the dress against her and outlining her curves, tantalizingly, for a moment. She pulled back the blue tarp and trailed her hand through the water of the hot tub, which he knew was warm and brackish and low. It needed to be drained and refilled but there hadn’t been enough rain.       

Gun forgotten, he saw her pick up a discarded pitcher and go to the water barrel on the corner of the house. He had to move over to keep her in sight and by the time he got repositioned she had just filled up the pitcher and turned off the spigot. She stepped away from the house, lifted the pitcher and poured, letting the water cascade over her. She took a deep breath with her eyes closed, head back, and smiled as the water ran over her face and hair and down to the ground. 

“Damn,” he said softly. Now he could see her body. As the rivulets of water wet the dress it clung to her, every curve now outlined and accentuated. The gauzy material must have been as thin as tissue paper to hug her like that. She poured another pitcher over her head and down her back, wetting the few dry spots that were left. He could see her white panties through the dress, and when she turned to toss the pitcher back toward the pool the material was molded to her ass and the curve of her back as if it was painted on.  

He sat up a little straighter as she wiped the water from her face and pulled up the wet material around her legs enough to walk easily. This was somehow sexier than if she had been naked. Her nipples were erect from the cool water or the tiny bit of breeze and he could see them, darker than her skin, right through the dress. 

“Oh, there you are,” she said as she stepped into the shadows of the porch.

“Hey,” He shifted the neglected gun on his lap if he had been working on it. 

“That’s a little better. Not much.” She tugged a patio chair next to him and sat down. “This is miserable. Is it any better up here?” 

“Not really.” 

“I was hoping it would be cooler under the pine trees.” She picked up a magazine she had left and fanned herself like a southern belle on a veranda in Atlanta, except he could see right through her clothes to every curve, every inch of her. 

“What?” she asked. He looked up to see her grinning at him. 

He put aside the gun and any pretense that he was working on it and inclined his head with a grin of his own. “I like that look.” 

“All wet?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” The heat was drawing the moisture out already and the dress was pulling away from her skin in spots, softening the curves. It clung to her thighs still and he thought of just burying himself in her last night, his face and hands all over her, against her, in her. 

He took a deep breath. “Wow.”

He heard her chuckle and looked up to her grin and her lower lip caught in her teeth. “Are you thinking about last night?” she asked. 

“Yep.” 

“Me too. Wow is right. I felt like a goddess.” 

He chuckled. “Well, I’m not quite sure what that means, but I’m glad.” He tilted his head, his smile fading. “What . . .” He reached up and brushed at her neck. “Well, shit. I’m sorry, baby. I left a mark.” 

“What?” She touched her neck. 

“You have a bruise, right here.” He touched the pulse point on her throat. 

“Oh, from when . . . let me see.” She jumped up and ran in the house to one of the ornate mirrors in the dining room. She came out a moment later, laughing. “That’s the biggest hickey I’ve ever had. My daddy’s gonna be mad. You won’t be allowed to take me to prom.”  

He couldn’t hide his grin. “I’m sorry, darlin’.” 

“I’m not. That was fun.” Instead of going back to her chair she came toward him and just climbed on top, sitting astride him on the loveseat. “This felt good at first. Now it’s just clammy and warm.” She grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up, slowly, her gaze not leaving his. His jaw dropped as the material peeled away from her skin, leaving droplets of water. It traveled up her thighs, over her stomach, and then little by little revealing her breasts, her nipples still erect, leaving her skin damp and warm. 

“Fuck,” he said softly. 

She pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. “That’s better.” 

“Yes, it is.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her right up against him, sliding his hands over her ass and scooting her panties down. She shifted back and forth so he could slide them off and settle on him, naked and glorious, her tits in his face. He loved feeling the weight of them, filling his hands, soft and full. He loved how she thrust at him, arching her back and filling his mouth while he swirled his tongue around her hard nipple. He loved grabbing her ass like this, molding and massaging her flesh while she grabbed his head for kisses, twining her tongue with his. 

“Too many clothes, baby,” she murmured, tugging on his shirt. He reluctantly let go, whipped off his tank top and slid his shorts and underwear out of the way, and grabbed her again, first cradling her head for a kiss then sliding his hands down her curves to her waist, guiding her down over him. She moaned and leaned forward, wrapping herself around him as he filled her. He held her close and closed his eyes and just soaked it in, her breath on his neck, her little moans, full breasts pressed against him, her thighs against his and his cock buried in her, hot and wet and tight. The smell of her, damp and warm, and her hair against his skin, and that little sound in her throat, almost a purr, as she started moving on him, fucking him because she just could never get enough of him - he groaned and grabbed her hips, guiding her faster, feeling her body flush under his hands, following her as she exploded on him.  

 


	27. Chapter 27 - What are you making up for?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both face some demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot has happened my my life. My husband passed away in December, after a 15-month battle with cancer. I'm finding my feet again and moving forward, though things will never be the same. I had put this aside, but recently got a couple messaged from people saying they enjoyed it and asking if it would continue. You inspired me! I'm so glad I came back to it - I missed Amanda and Christian and this whole world.

Chapter 27

The wood fired bread oven had been done for a while. Amanda turned out bread and cakes, and challenged Christian to come up with pizza toppings if she made the crust. Her favorite was fig, carmelized onion and delicate shreds of smoked jerky with a drizzle of balsamic. He enjoyed many variations of the purple pizza from his TV show, with a lot of fresh garlic and crushed black olives in the sauce. 

He had found a new project to occupy himself. He finally gave in to the urge to take down a deer and shot and butchered up a fat young buck. He and Amanda and the dogs ate as much as they could and set up jerky in the solar dehydrators but a lot went to waste, so he decided he would build a smokehouse. He wanted to learn as much as he could about preserving meat before he took another deer so he was happily drawing up plans, researching, and working on the little building. He’d decided on making the firebox separate from the smokehouse, with the smoke piped in, rather than a more traditional style of the fire going under the meat. It gave him a little more control of the process, and was more complicated and interesting to build. 

It had finally started to cool off before he could make the decision for them to head north. The bush beans were done - the last few weeks Amanda had said not to pick them and let them dry on the bush, to see if they could start saving seed year to year. The sweet corn was petering out, the pumpkins were getting close to ripening, and the days were getting a little shorter, so she thought they might be well into September. 

Christian took a break from his construction project to spend a day on some music he’d been thinking about. He was so absorbed in his work that he was startled when he heard Amanda’s voice from the doorway. 

“I’m headed to bed.” 

He looked up and nodded. It was full dark out the window but he didn’t know how late it was. “All right. I’ll be a bit.” 

She waved and turned away. He stilled the strings and listened as she padded down the hall. He heard the fourth step creak as she went up the steps, and then nothing else. He turned back to his guitar. He’d tried several times to work through  _ How I’m Livin’ Now  _ since she had asked about it a week or so ago, but hadn’t yet made it through. One more time, he thought. 

 

I spend my life   
A little left of honest livin'   
I hope God will be forgivin'   
When I'm done   
Take a little more time   
And give it to the friends I'm missing   
And lend a little more ear and listen to everyone   
Oh, I'm set on changin' my ways . . .

 

He shook his head. He had the tune worked out, but still couldn’t help the catch in his voice at the friends he was missing. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and raised it, then looked at and put it down. He’d had enough. If it still helped to get drunk he would, but it didn’t. 

This was a song about accepting where you found yourself and making the most of it, and he just couldn’t. Day by day he could do his projects and be with Amanda and act like this was normal, but it seemed like a betrayal, somehow, to everyone he’d lost if he truly came to accept that this was it. 

His eyes burned for a second, but he blinked away the tears and hummed through the rest, saying the words in his head, fine-tuning the picking as he went.  

 

I'll make sure   
to make the best of what's yet to come   
Laugh a little bit more while I'm still young   
Yeah, yeah   
Put a smile back in style   
I make my daddy proud enough   
Go all in and get lucky in love   
Yeah, yeah   
Oh, that's how I'm living now.

 

He shrugged. Getting there. He worked through a few others,  _ Rattlesnake Smile _ and  _ Spirit Boy _ , that he didn’t used to play. Twice more he found the bottle at his lips, and finally capped it and put it out of reach. 

He’d taught himself enough guitar to be passable, but he’d never been great. He surrounded himself with talented musicians like Steve and Hank and Jay and a dozen others, who did the fancy picking and guitar work while he just sang and strummed along. So now, every song he wanted to tackle, if he wanted music to sing to he had to figure it out. It was getting easier. 

Whatever. He shook his head again to clear it and went to his next project. Amanda had been so tickled when he said  _ Sweet Carolina Rain _ could have been written for her, blushing and her face lighting up. He grinned when he pictured her hearing this one written just for her,  _ Tornado. _ It was a little tricky, trying to capture those moments of her going insane under his body, or under his hands. As he strummed through, trying different phrasing, pictures of her with the sundress clinging and peeling it off, and dancing naked and then coming at him, and her that day with the convertible - 

A verse with the wildcat, he decided, and one when she matched him step by step, or he matched her, whichever. And the last verse - when he took her down at the top of the stairs, and pinned her to the bed - he didn’t know what to do with that yet. He felt the heat in his body just at the thought, controlling and containing that tornado, and her loving it and wanting it.

He glanced at the window. It was a half-moon, high in the sky, and the stars were so bright. Amanda was surely asleep by now. He put aside the guitar and went upstairs, stripping his clothes and sliding in next to her. She didn’t move and her breathing was deep and even through his kisses and caresses. 

I should let her sleep, he thought, even as ran his hand down her body and and kissed into her neck. Drink didn’t help anymore, but this did, losing himself in her. I need to quit messing with that damn song, he thought. It was hard enough without going to things that made him miss them more. 

He lowered his head to take her nipple in his mouth, teasing her with his tongue. He slid his hand around her ass to pull her hips up to him, and she finally started to stir. She put an arm loosely around his neck as he moved back up to give her sweet kisses. 

“Are you up for something?” he murmured against her neck.

“What?” Her voice was slurred with sleep and when he pulled back her eyes were fluttering closed.

You are such as ass, he thought to himself. Leave the woman alone. But the thought of rolling over, trying to sleep with images of his  _ Leverage _ family in his mind, or heading back downstairs to, he knew, hit the bottle hard, knowing it would do no good and make tomorrow worse . . . 

“Can I fuck you?” he growled against her mouth, between kisses. 

“Oh. Yeah.” She shifted against him. “Are you drunk?” 

He rested his head on her. Leave her alone, he thought again to himself, but couldn’t make himself pull away. 

“No, baby. I’m not.” 

“Oh, good.” She snuggled in closer. 

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. How did she ever put up with him . . . “I just want you so bad right now.” 

“Mmm. That’s nice.” Then she was on her back, legs spread, open to him. Still half asleep, her hand trailing against his skin, her body soft and warm under him. If he took his time and kept touching her she would warm up to meet him, but he didn’t want to take time. He wanted to be in her, now. He trailed his hand down and up her thigh - she wasn’t quite ready for him, one of the very few times he could remember she wasn’t soaking wet by the time he touched her. 

You are such a dick, he thought again. But it didn’t stop him from sliding down, putting his mouth on her to get her wet as soon as possible so he could take her. She started moving a little more, pushing against him and threading her fingers in his hair and he heard some soft moans, but compared to her usual response she was barely moving, almost asleep. 

He settled in to enjoy it, his hands on her thighs holding her open for him, the taste of her  musky and sweet. He loved it, but it wasn’t enough to get lost and forget. Then she was ready, both with his saliva and her own juices. 

He moved back up and on her, making himself slow down. He eased in, letting her body make way for him. He wasn’t so far gone he had to force it like he had at the top of the steps. It felt different when she was flat on the bed like this, soft and easy and open. When she was wrapped around him, legs pulling him in and hips thrusting back at him, it was tighter, the tension in different places - anyway, different. And they both got so turned on so fast, sometimes barely starting before she was exploding and screaming under him, him right behind. 

Her arms were loose around his neck and she gave little moans, almost purrs, each time he sheathed himself in her. He stayed slow and easy, his eyes closed and head resting on her. It was hot and wet and so tight, like sinking into warm velvet, and finally his mind switched off and he was lost in the feel and scent and sounds of her. There were no thoughts, now - no words in his head, just sensations. He felt the changes in her: tight at first, pulling, almost like she was greedy, then softening, and deepening, opening for him while still holding him tight, that hot pressure along his whole length. Often with them it was hard or fast, or she was on him, and he didn’t feel every bit like this. 

It went on and on in the dark, quiet night. He felt like his whole body was sinking into her. He was surrounded and safe; the whole world was her, and it was enough. 

 

Amanda was floating in space, anchored by Christian. She didn’t know how long he had been moving on her, wanting her, filling her up. She must have dozed, maybe several times. She was floating in the ocean, slipping under the waves to sleep and surfacing again to find him still warm and sweet against her, and solid and satisfying in her. She roused enough to scatter kisses on his shoulder at some point, then again drifted away.  

When he first asked her for sex she had struggled to wake up, sluggishly trying to figure out if she would have to take care of him, protect herself, manage his feelings, face his anger and pain. Then - ‘No, I just want you so bad.’ Her mind and body eased - it was OK. She was wanted and cared for and safe. He would take care of her. He was in her sooner than she expected and that feeling of being filled, surrounded, surrendering and giving, washed over her. 

His words floated through her mind again as she drifted back awake. He was still now, nestled inside her, his breath warm on her neck, his head on her shoulder and hair soft against her face in the dark room. She thought for a moment he had drifted to sleep as well, but she could feel the tremor through him and he was braced on his elbows, holding his weight off of her. He was trying not to come. 

A moment later the tension eased and she felt a kiss on her shoulder where he rested and his breath on her neck as he sighed. Her arm had fallen to the bed and she looped it again around his neck as she nuzzled him and moved under him, shifting her hips just a little so she could feel him move in her. Without a word he started again, soft and slow but still hard. She had never been so relaxed with him moving in her, with no tension anywhere in her body. She always was meeting him, or responding, or initiating, or giving way. It was a dance. 

But this - it was a dance of a different sort. No, not a dance. What is this like? she thought drowsily. She wasn’t sinking back into sleep, but her thoughts were still dream-like. She put her arms more firmly around him, one arm around his neck with her fingers in his hair and the other on his back, hand flat against his warm skin. She was a kite, maybe, anchored to the ground but flying and free. She was floating - she pictured Moses’s bulrush boat, perched, slowly spinning, on top of the water. 

Nothing was like this feeling of him sliding into her, over and over, she decided. He was sweet and slow and let her body ease open to him every time, not forcing or pushing. That was OK too, but this - she nuzzled against the skin of his neck, her exhales now audible with every stroke, her hips barely moving to meet him and let him take her just a little deeper. She was awake now to enjoy it, but she felt like she could have been dreaming. 

He must have felt it, that smallest shift in her response. He moved a little faster, his breath warm on her. Her moans were met with his as she moved her legs further apart. Her fingers tightened in his hair when she felt that delicious tension in his body, driving harder, but had she ever been this open for him? Usually when he started pounding harder like this, he was still making way for himself, deep inside her. But even though she was still tight around the length of him, he fit, as if coming home. 

Even while one part of her mind was noticing and thinking about every sensation, she was lost. Her legs found their way around him, pulling him to her. She was meeting him thrust for thrust, her skin was hot, and her teeth grazed his neck through her moans. 

When he came it seemed to last forever as he cried out, clutching her to him, shaking. She held on, feeling his sweat against her skin, hearing his harsh gasps. 

Once he had asked her why this was her favorite part and she couldn’t even begin to say. She just felt complete, and whole, and wanted, and needed. There was a wash of sensations over her body, different from coming but still sweeping the world away.

His breathing finally slowed and he grew heavier on her. She nudged and he slid off, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her up against him. He pulled back and looked at her in the moonlight, his eyes searching her face, his brow furrowed and face solemn.

“Wow, baby.” She smiled as she stroked his face before settling her arm around his neck. She kissed him and pulled back to meet his gaze again. “You ok?” 

He took a deep breath and returned her smile, his expression softening. “I guess so. Wow is right.” He kissed her nose. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“Do I look sorry?” 

“No, ma’am.” He stroked her arm. “Can I help you with something?” 

“Oh, no, I’m good. That was wonderful.” 

There was an odd expression on his face, not upset, but - before she could ask he pulled her close for kisses and they drifted to sleep in each other’s arms.    

 

“What are you up to this afternoon?” Christian asked her a day or so later as he stacked the plates from lunch. 

“I’m gonna go take a nap. I was up too late last night.” 

“That sounds nice.” 

After he washed up the dishes he followed her upstairs, slipping off his shirt and sliding in to cuddle up against her back. He kissed the back of her neck and trailed his hand down over her hip. 

“Christian, I’m really tired. Maybe a little later.” 

“Oh - sure, darlin’. I’m sorry.” He stopped his touches and slid his arm around her waist, settling against her. They often fell asleep cuddled like this. 

He was starting to drift himself when he felt and heard her sigh and she patted his arm twice. His attention sharpened a bit - that wasn’t usual. Did he just get the tap? The ‘thanks - we’re done’ double tap? 

“I’m just really tired,” she said. “I’ll catch up with you a little later, OK?”

Ooch. “I’m sorry, baby. You have a nice nap.” He slid away, tucking the covers around her, grabbed his shirt and stepped out of the room. 

 

The next afternoon he waited until she was engrossed in her book, curled up on the leather couch by the window in the parlor. “I’m headed out to scout around for some car parts,” he said from the doorway. “Do you want to come along?”

“No, I’m fine. Have fun.” She barely looked up from her book. 

He left the house and drove straight to the bookstore she had taken him to before. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but hoped he would know it when he saw it. He had gotten complacent about coming after her whenever, and her never chasing him off. Yesterday shook him up a little - the first time she had outright told him no. She came to him a few hours later, rested and happy, and they had fun and he made sure to take good care of her. She was going to get sick of him, though, if he kept it up.

He had brought a few lanterns to set around so he could browse the books with his hands free. He was looking for something special, something new to make up for being at her like a dog in heat.  _ I could quit _ , he thought,  _ and give her some space _ . He didn’t want to, though. His drinking had cut way back, and now that the novelty of being with someone and his projects had worn off, sex was the one thing he could count on to stop the frustration and anger. It was the one place he could lose himself when all the losses got to be too much.  

He started where he had left off, in the self-help aisle by the massage books, and pulled out one book after another, flipping through them. He put them back on the shelf if it was convenient and tossed them out of his way if it wasn’t. Couples massage, foot massage, self-massage - what the hell? He flipped through it and tossed it aside. Trigger point massage, yoni massage - He flipped the pages and started to toss it, then did a double take and looked again. Yep, there was photos and drawings of pussies, with hands and fingers all over them. 

“Well, HEL-lo,” he murmured as he flipped to the front. “Yoni is the Sanskrit word for the vagina that is loosely translated as "sacred space" or "Sacred Temple,” he read. “The goal of the Yoni massage is not solely to achieve orgasm, although orgasm is often a pleasant and welcome side effect. The goal can be as simple as to pleasure and massage the Yoni.”

Well, then. Of course he’d had friends in L.A. into all kinds of Middle Eastern shit, but he’d never paid attention. He turned and leaned against the shelf as he read through the book, his smile wider and wider. Oh, she would love this. 

“Fun for everyone,” he said as grabbed a lantern and settled with the book into an overstuffed chair in a corner. Amanda loved being taken care of. If he started with that tickle rub thing she liked, and worked into this - the descriptions and instructions were explicit and detailed and he was getting turned on just reading about it. He was pleased to find there were some things he was doing right, although more than he expected that he didn’t know. 

He scouted the shelves to make sure he wasn’t missing anything - he found  _ Sensual Massage _ , but it was mostly stuff he was already doing. He hefted his find as he left. He would do like he had before, study it pretty good before surprising her, but he couldn’t wait. 

He was almost home before he remembered to go back and stop at the neighborhood Auto Zone and grab some car parts. 

 

“Hey.” Amanda looked up from her book at Christian’s call from the doorway upon his return. “Did you get lunch yet?” he asked. 

“No.” 

“Alright. I’m gonna rustle up something.” 

When he called her a while later she finished the chapter and wandered down, stopping at the dining room. 

“Wow.” He had cleared the end of the table and it was set with china, a steaming tureen in the middle, with biscuits and a bright leafy salad with home-made dressing. “This looks amazing. What’s the occasion?” 

“I just felt like cooking.” He slipped up behind her and gave her a hug before pulling out a chair for her to sit. 

“What . . .” She looked again at the table as she sat down. “You made biscuits?” 

“Sure.” He served her from the tureen. “This is kinda like coq a vin. I used that roasted squirrel we had, and a nice burgundy . . .” 

She grinned at the tour of the meal, and moaned at her first bite. He grinned at her compliments, digging into his own plate. 

“Are these your first biscuits?” She savored every bite. 

“Naw, I’ve made biscuits here and there. Just not very often.” 

“They’re really good.” She put down her fork. “No special occasion?” 

“No, sweetheart. I just felt like it.” 

“Hmm. You’re sure in a good mood.” He just shrugged, grinning, and stabbed another piece of rabbit. “Did you want to go to bed?” she asked. 

He almost choked, laughing. “Well, yeah, if you’re asking. That’s not why I cooked for you, though. I just wanted to.” 

“Hmm.”  

His grin was wide. “Why are you so suspicious?” 

It was her turn to shrug. “You’ve been kinda moody lately, and now all of a sudden you’re so happy. You seem more relaxed or something. I was just wondering.”

“I’m just so glad to be here with you, baby.” He leaned forward, his smile soft, eyes warm. 

“Huh.” That did not allay her suspicions. It was getting into fall and they had been together half a year. That wasn’t something they said all the time anymore.   

He laughed, his head back, and she couldn’t help but smile at his joy. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll be honest with ya. I felt bad about the other night, and I wanted to make it up to you.” 

She stopped to think. “What other night?” 

“When you were asleep.” 

“I sleep most nights. What are you talking about?”

He grimaced. “When you were sound asleep, and I kept pestering you. I shoulda left you alone.” 

“Oh!” She finally placed what he was talking about. “That was fine. You asked, and I said yes.” 

“Naw, you were falling asleep the whole time. I shoulda let you be.” 

“Christian, I liked it. It was really sweet. I felt like I was floating.”

He shook his head. “And yesterday, you wanted to nap and I was at you.” 

“You left, and I napped, and then I came and got you. It was fine.” She frowned. “What do you think the problem is? What are you making up for?” 

He shook his head, but he was grinning. “Nothing, I guess. Goddamit, you drive me crazy.” 

“I’m just trying to understand.” She turned back to her food. “Whatever. You can feel bad if you want. Not my business.” She savored her next bite. “This is wonderful, though. Thank you.”    

“I should cook for you more often.” 

She looked up, frowning. “Well, if you want to. There’s no ‘should’ about it.” He didn’t say any more, just leaned back with that little grin. She shook her head and finished her meal. When she pushed back from the table he got to his feet, glanced around the room and reached for her hand. 

“You all done? Come here.” 

“Why? What are we . . .” He pulled her out to the hallway. “What . .” she started to ask again. He tugged her hand and she was off balance for a moment, then found herself up against the wall outside the dining room, pinned by Christian’s hard body.

“Too many mirrors and shit to do this in there.” He nodded at the dining room. 

“Why . . .” He cut off her question with a kiss. She sighed against him and leaned back against the wall, feeling the heat of him as he settled against her, letting the tension go. Whatever he was up to, this at least was familiar. She slipped her arms around his neck and smiled when he pulled back to look at her. “What’s got into you?” she asked. 

He didn’t answer and his smile faded as he cradled her head with both hands, his eyes searching her face. Usually Amanda could tell his mood, but she had no idea what to expect this time. He leaned forward and kissed her again, slow and sweet. She released a sigh that turned into a moan as he deepened it, easing her mouth open with his and teasing against her tongue. Her next moan was more of a whimper as he tasted her, licking at her lip and sucking and playing. 

He pulled back and she tried to catch her breath. “Wow. Whatever got into you, I like it.” She saw that little head tilt and set to his jaw, but he came in again just as sweet and responsive, drawing her out and filling her senses. She moaned, her head back, grasping at his shoulders, and he kept kissing and kissing, in control, his tongue chasing hers and his teeth nipping at her lip enough for her to catch her breath.

He had been, as he said, ‘at her’ a lot the last few weeks, in between his music and smokehouse project, every day almost frantic to be intimate, so there had been a lot more fucking than kissing. She enjoyed the sex so much and he had been kissing her some, quick and hard as he got her clothes off, so it hadn’t occurred to her to miss this. But she felt like she hadn’t realized she was thirsty and was drinking from a deep, cool well. Her breath was catching as she twined her hands in his hair - which was down, she vaguely noticed for the first time.

His kisses grew lighter and teasing, barely brushing her lips with his. She moaned and tried to pull him closer but he still cradled her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks as he sipped at her. Her knees were giving out by the time he relented and deepened again.

He pulled back and she saw his devilish grin for just a moment before he kissed down into her neck and ran his hand up under her shirt to cup her breast, his thumb tracing circles that made her shiver. 

“Oh my God, Christian,” she gasped as he trapped her nipple between his fingers and grazed his teeth on her neck. 

“What?” he murmured against her throat. 

“Please . . .” 

“Please what?” He was smiling as he pulled back to see her, his body still pinning the length of her against the wall. He was breathing hard and his cock was rock hard pressed against her thigh, but his frantic, driven quality of the last few weeks had eased.

“What are you doing?” 

“Well,” he drawled, one hand still on her breast while the other slid down to knead her ass, “I seem to have you caught here, where you can’t get away.” 

“I wasn’t going to get away.” 

His expression shifted, there was something for just a moment, not angry or sad but  . . . and then his mouth was on hers again, this time plundering and taking and she moaned, taking him in. But only for a moment - it was as if he caught himself and softened again to teasing and tasting.

She couldn’t stop whimpering as the heat built. His kisses were teasing and then possessive, and then teasing again as she felt her pussy start to pulse. She was throbbing, pressing her hips against him and grinding against his cock until he shifted, still pinning her but pressed against her hip instead of letting the hard length of him nestle into her. 

“Please . . .” she begged again, through her moans. 

“You want somethin’, baby?” He slid his arm up to her waist, holding her up, and ran his other hand down between her legs. His fingertips grazed the front of her thin shorts, barely touching, but her senses were so heightened that she arched against him as if shocked.

“Please - oh my God, Chris -” She pushed against his hand but he drew back, keeping his touch light. She barely knew what she was saying, she just knew she was frantic for him to grab her, fuck her, kiss her, anything but this teasing that was making her insane. 

He slipped his hand into her waistband and worked down over her belly to nestle between her legs. “I want you to come for me.” 

“Oh, God, yes - let’s, um, let’s go lay down.” 

“Uh-uh. Right here.” He gently stroked, easing in where she was swollen and wet and sensitive. She bucked against him and her knees gave way but he had her around the waist and pinned between himself and the wall. “I gotcha, baby. Let it go,” he murmured against her ear, sliding two fingers into her, tight but effortless. His palm was pressing against her clit, his fingers entering her, and she was lost. 

 

Christian held on as best he could, his heart hammering and teeth clenched, as she screamed and dug her nails in his back, her whole body shaking. He eased his palm away but bent his knees so he could keep his fingers deep inside her - he wanted to feel those spasms, how she milked his fingers like she would his cock. 

She was finally limp against his chest, arms around his neck and breathing hard, almost sobbing, against his neck. When he felt her support herself again he moved his arm up from her waist to cradle her head, kissing her forehead. When the visible aftershocks tapered off he could still feel them inside, her pussy pulsing long after her flushing had faded and breathing leveled off. 

“Wow.” She kissed his chest and started to move away but his tightened his grip on her shoulders.  

“Can we wait a minute?” he asked. 

She caught her breath as he moved in her. “I guess. It’s tender, though.” 

“I’ll be gentle,” he said. She looked up, eyes shining, and he kissed her. “I can feel you still coming around my fingers,” he murmured.      

“Oh, God.” She caught her breath again, those little involuntary gasps, and he could feel the responding pulsing inside her. 

“Jesus.” He adjusted so he could keep his hand where it was and kiss her, sucking the soft inside of her lip, drawing her tongue to him, and moaned when he felt her clench around him. “Holy fuck. It’s like you’re pulling me in.” 

“I’m - I’m not used to that, you staying in me after I come.” Her head went back, the smooth skin of her neck exposed, her hips just barely moving against his hand. 

He moved his hand back to barely brush her clit and she jumped and her eyes flew open wide. He eased off again, stroking his fingers inside her, feeling the clench and easing of muscles at the entrance and the ripple of the walls around him, getting stronger and more frequent as he kissed on her neck. 

“You gonna come again, sweetheart?” 

“No - oh, my God, there - no, I can’t.” 

“I bet you can. I can feel it.” He curled his fingers forward, wanting to feel everything while he could, and his fingers went from smooth, muscled surface to a rougher, spongy area - her moans became guttural and she quivered as he explored, gently feeling the difference. 

“Oh my Ga - What are you . . .oh fuck  . . . what are you doing?” She could barely speak and her skin was flushing and he caught her weight as her knees started to give out again. 

Aha, he thought. I know where I am. He felt such a rush of  - what? Pride? Possession, for sure. He was touching her where maybe no one had ever touched her before, making her feel something only for him.

I am gonna finish this, he thought. But how . . . his hand was starting to cramp and they were off balance, and shortly here Amanda was not going to be able to support herself. 

He made sure she was steady enough to be supported by the wall and reached down to slide her shorts and panties down, easing them the rest of the way with his foot until she could step out. 

“Spread your legs a little,” he breathed against her hair and they both moaned as he slid in a little deeper, no longer constrained by her clothes. “Can you get your shirt off?” She pulled it off and he dipped his head and captured her, sucking hard for a moment and then letting his teeth graze her nipple. He had to close his eyes at not only how she caught her breath and thrust her breast at him, but at the feeling of her closing around his fingers in rhythm with his sucking. 

“I want you to come again for me.” 

“I can’t, I can’t,” she cried even while her body pulled at him. 

“Amanda.” He waited until she looked at him, her pupils wide, her face flushed. “If you want me to stop, you push my hand away. OK?” Her eyes fluttered closed and head went back. “Hey.” He let his voice sharpen and she looked at him again, startled and a little more focused. “I don’t trust your words right now, sweetheart. You want this. But you put your hand on me and push, and I’ll stop. I promise. OK?” He stilled his hand, and she finally focused on him and nodded. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. He started stroking again, filling her up before grazing the G-spot. Again, that guttural, animal moan, her head back, her hips moving seemingly without her conscious awareness, fucking herself on his fingers. 

“No, stop, I can’t,” she groaned even while thrusting against him and twining her fingers in his hair, pulling. He stayed well away from her clitty but pressed harder against the front wall deep inside, feeling the contractions growing around him. 

“Come on, mama, give it to me,” he growled. He braced himself and caught her weight as she collapsed, her body undulating against him rather than the convulsions of her usual orgasm. Her eyes rolled back and she flushed beet red, barely moving, then finally exploded, jerking in his arms, and a rush of fluid gushed over his hand. 

She screamed, her body shaking, and reaching down caught his wrist in a vice-like grip. He stilled but she didn’t push him away so he stayed there, feeling the walls squeezing against him even stronger than before, his whole forearm wet from her, his own body shaking with arousal and control. 

“Holy shit, baby,” he murmured. She sagged against him, one arm around his neck while he supported her waist. He had never seen her come like that. Her eyes were open, but he didn’t think she was seeing him. He started to move his fingers out of her, gritting his teeth at the feel of her pussy pulling at him. She didn’t release her grip so he became still again, just holding her. 

“You OK, darlin’?” He kissed her hair. His heart wasn’t calming yet, still pounding hard, and his cock was as hard as it had ever been. It wasn’t a painful aching for release, but he was just so turned on by what he had done for her. 

She didn’t reply and he angled to see her face. Her stare was still blank for a moment, then she finally blinked and turned to look at him. 

“Wow.” Her voice was hoarse. She closed her eyes and rested her head on him. He grinned and took a deep breath. Wow is right. She released his hand and he started again to gently pull away. At her whimper he paused. 

Holy shit, he thought. Again? Yep, she was moving against him, giving little moans. He slipped his thumb into her folds, against the clit, and the moans increased and she was pushing against his hand. He slid his fingers forward, letting her crush her clit against his fingertips, his jaw clenched and his erection now painful as he grabbed her ass and pressed back harder and harder against that little nub where he usually had to be so careful and gentle. 

And again, she was screaming, flushed red, convulsing, riding her clit on his hand as hard as she could before suddenly slapping his hand away from her and collapsing on his neck. 

“Oh fuck fuck . . .” he groaned. As she fell he scooped her up and carried her the few steps to the day bed in the music room, dropping her on the bed and landing on top of her to grab her head and kiss her hard, fucking her mouth with his tongue while she quivered under him. 

He finally softened his kisses, then gathered her up in his arms with a sigh while she burrowed in against him. The aftershocks went on and on, shaking her again as soon as she calmed. It was minutes before she finally stirred and looked up at him, eyes wide and shining and face still flushed. 

“Wow.” Her voice was hoarse and she touched her throat. “What was that?” 

He propped up on an elbow to see her. “I found your G-spot.” He didn’t even care that he couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice or the grin off his face. 

“That was . . . I never -” 

“I know. That was wild. You came three times.” 

“At least.” He cocked his head, grinning. “Three big ones,” she continued. “I don’t know what else was going on.”

“That. Was. Awesome.” He couldn’t stop grinning and went in for more kisses. 

“Mmm.” She took another big breath and pulled back to look at him, her eyes shining. “I want to go down on you.” She started to scoot down the bed.

He had just finally started to soften but at her words and the thought of her mouth on him he was immediately hard again. But he loved that this was about her, after how selfish he’d been for weeks. “You don’t have to, baby,” he said. 

“What?” She scooted back up. “I didn’t say I had to. I said I wanted to. Do you not want me to? Are you telling me no?” 

“Oh, fuck no.” He frowned at the concern in her face. “I would love it. That was so fucking hot. But . . .” 

“But what? Sweetie, what is going on? What do you think is wrong?” 

Sweetie, he thought. Now she’s worried about me. “Nothing, darlin’. I’m fine. Yes, I’d love that.” 

“What is going on?” she asked again and nestled into his arms, propped up where she could see his face. 

Fuck. “Nothing.”

“Nuh-uh. No B.J. until you tell me what’s up. I’m not playing this.”  

He sighed and pulled her close, an arm around her shoulder. “Goddamnit.” She just shrugged. He started to speak, then stopped. She waited. 

“Fuck.” He sighed and started again. “It’s just that I realized I’ve been an asshole for weeks. I’ve not been drinking as much. I’ve just been at you so much - it’s the only thing that helps. I wanted to make up for that.” He lowered his head and looked at her, letting his eyes warm and a slow smile spread. He roughened his voice and held her gaze. “You don’t mind, do ya?”  

She caught her breath, one little gasp, but grinned and shook her head. She knew he was trying to charm his way out of it. She lay her head down on his chest, arm over him, and he rolled to his back and pulled her close. 

I wonder if I get my hummer, he thought. I wish I wasn’t such an idiot. 

“What it feels like,” she finally said, still resting on his chest, “is that you don’t trust me.” 

“What??” His heart skipped a beat and he half sat up. “Where in the hell did that come from?”  

“So you think you’ve been selfish, or something?” she asked. “Did you not notice that I loved it? You aren’t tricking me, or making me. I love it when you come after me - you make me feel so sexy and hot. And how many times have I told you that when we make love the whole world goes away, and I love it?” She sighed. “So when you’re all worried about being ‘after me’ or whatever, it feels like you don’t believe me.” She propped up and he saw a mischievous grin. “But you know what - if that’s what happens when you’re making it up to me, I might just keep quiet and let it go. Wow.” 

“Yeah, that was somethin’.” He pulled her down and nuzzled her neck. “You  _ are _ sexy and hot.” 

“Not so much before.” 

“I don’t believe it.” He rolled over so he could see her again. “Alright. Here’s the thing. I do believe you and I do trust you to do what you want to do. I remember that wildcat with the convertible.” His grin was wicked. “You’ve told me to fuck off enough times. I guess I just - forgot. The way I been the last few weeks? Before, that woulda got me in trouble. But it’s not before. It’s here. With you.” He kissed her nose. “OK?” 

“Yeah.” Her eyes were shining and her smile was warm and soft. 

“I -” He stopped and closed his eyes, swallowing hard, then looked at her and grinned. “Do I get my BJ now?” 

“Oh, hell, yeah.” She smiled, biting her lip, and tugged at his clothes.

As she slid down, kissing his chest as she went, he squeezed his eyes tight. I almost said ‘I love you,’ he thought. Why didn’t I? He could picture how she would light up, how much that would mean to her. And he did love her, by any criteria he had ever had. He wanted her to be happy. He couldn’t imagine being without her. He was willing to change for her. She made him happy. She was her own person, and she stood up to him. 

So why didn’t he say it? For one thing, she wasn’t going anywhere. Almost every relationship he had, it got to a point where he had to move it forward or she was gone, on to someone else who was willing to take that step. Sometimes - 

“Oh, fuck!” He had so preoccupied himself with his thoughts that her mouth, hot and wet, surprised him. She grabbed his ass and pulled him up to his side, laying on her side and urging him forward, to thrust into her. “Oh, sweetheart -” Almost always he was on his back with her doing most of the moving, but this way, all of the heat and pressure and variety of her sucking on him, while he . . . could move . . . thrusting - oh, God - 

She scooted forward, moaning, and he could feel the vibration. He thrust again and could feel the tunnel of her throat against him, she was taking the whole length of him - it was hot enough when she was on top, but like this, letting him fuck her mouth, was amazing. Not just letting but asking him to, with her hand on his ass pulling him - he put his hand on her head, trying not to hold her, but his hips took over and he was driving into her, a final thrust and release, his body shaking. He was ready to slide out, he didn’t know if she could swallow like this. But she just buckled down and held on, swallowing him, taking every bit. 

He was looking down when she finally released him, breathing hard and wiping the corner of her mouth. She caught his eye and grinned as she slid back up into his arms. 

“That was fun,” she said. 

“Holy fuck.”

“I would be so disappointed if you told me I couldn’t suck you off.”

“Oh my God, baby.” He was still shaking as she settled into his arms. She scooted to pull his head to her chest, cradling him, and after long minutes they finally both had calmed.    

Christian had fallen asleep in her arms, and she may have dozed, too. Now he was propped up on pillows and she was draped over him, kissing on his chest while he stroked her back and dropped kisses on her hair. He was no hurry to get up and was glad that she seemed content to stay with him on the day bed, though it was well into the afternoon. 

“That was amazing,” she said again. 

“You are amazing,” he murmured. 

She shook her head against his chest. “I think I peed, though. The second time you made me come.” 

“Naw,” he said. She looked up and tilted her head in question. “No, that’s what happens when you hit that G-spot just right. It’s not piss. You’ve never done that before?” He looked down to see her shake her head. “I had another girlfriend who could do that. Not everyone can, I don’t think. That was fucking hot.” He cradled her face and dipped his head down to see her. His wide smile faded when she turned her gaze away and buried her head in his chest. 

“What, baby?” he asked. He tried to tilt her chin to see him but she gave him a weak smile and hid her face against his shoulder. 

“No,” he said. “Don’t do this, hon. Not right now. What is it?” He slid down even with her and slid his arm under her head so she was resting on him. Now there was nowhere to hide unless she closed her eyes or got up and left. 

“Nothing, sweetie. I’m fine.” She relaxed on his arm and smiled at him, but her eyes were bright. 

“I’m sure you are, but what was that?” She shook her head a little. He sighed and tightened his arm around her. This sudden ache and tightness in his chest wasn’t anger, or frustration. He didn’t know what it was, but he did know that if something had hurt or upset her he needed to know what it was.  “Amanda, come on. You made me tell.” 

“Nothing. It’s just silly.” He raised an eyebrow. She sighed. “It’s stupid. When you said that about you had another girlfriend who did that, it just hit me -” She stopped. He kept his expression warm and soft, waiting. “I had a thought like, ‘another girlfriend - that means I’m a girlfriend.’ It’s just dumb - what do we even call this? But it just hit me. I’m with you. We’re together. I . . you mean so much to me.” 

 

Amanda took a deep, shaky breath. She had almost said ‘I love you.’ “Christian, here’s the thing.” She closed her eyes and swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.  _ I can’t keep hiding from this, _ she thought.  _ If things change, they change. Maybe we’ve gone too far for it to matter anymore. _ She finally was able to continue. “For me, the fact that it was you - it mattered. I . . . cared about you already.  But for you - baby, I know you care about me now. But back in Nashville, it could have been anybody. Any woman you met could be in my place now. I know that. However you feel about me, you would feel that way about anyone.” She finally turned to meet his gaze. His eyes were bright but his expression unreadable. “That’s what I’ve been afraid to say. We both know it’s true, but I was afraid it would change things somehow, if I said it.” 

He shifted around until she was cradled against him and she could no longer see his face. She felt the rise and fall of his chest against her as he sighed. The silence stretched out, and she finally let out a slow breath and felt her tension and fear ease. We could just not talk about it at all, she thought. That works for me. 

“I don’t think so,” he finally said against her hair.  

“What?” 

“I don’t think so. I been thinkin’ about that, what if I met someone else.” He pulled back then to see her. Her breath caught at the look on his face and the light in his eyes. He reached up to caress her face. “The way I feel about you - naw. I wouldn’t feel this way about anyone else. Amanda, I love you.” 

“Oh my God.” She could barely breathe and her chest was tight. Her eyes stung with tears. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he murmured. 

“You don’t, though,” she gasped. She tried to pull away but his arm tightened and she found herself against him, feeling his warmth and strength. “It could have been anybody. It wasn’t me.”  

“No, that’s - Amanda, darlin’. You OK?” She heard the concern in his voice and felt him try to pull back to see her but she buried her face. “Hey. What is it?”  

She shook her head against his chest, unable to speak. It couldn’t be true, she thought. He wouldn’t lie, but how could . . . her mind swirled. For so long she had fought against the thought. She hadn’t dared imagine he could feel that way about her. 

“I tell you what,” he murmured against her, “I never had anyone argue with me about it before.” 

“What?”  

“You love me, right?” he asked. 

“Yes, of course I do.” He grinned at her quick answer and she blushed. “That’s different, though.” She had finally caught her breath and her runaway heart had slowed, so she could at least meet his gaze. 

“Why?” 

“Because I knew you before. I loved you before.”  

“Uh-huh.  Do you love Eliot?  Or the guy that wrote the songs?” 

“No, it’s you.”  She cradled his face. “I love you.” She felt an easing and blossoming in her chest and the fear dissolved at the light in his eyes. He kissed her, possessive and sweet.  

“And I love you. I told you, I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe at first some was the loneliness. You are so stubborn, and so sweet. And so goddamn sexy.  And so - I don’t know. You just are your own person, and you don’t let me get away with a damn thing.” He cradled her head with both hands, and kissed her again. “No, I wouldn’t feel like this with anyone else, because I don’t think there is anyone else like you.”

“Wow,” she breathed softly.  

“Yeah,” his voice was just as soft. “You ok now?” 

“Yes.” She felt she could sink into those warm eyes.  “I love you, Christian.” She smiled to see his face light up. 

“I love you, Amanda.” And the last of the fear that had been holding her back was swept away in his arms and his kisses. 


	28. Chapter 28 - Stay where I've got you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The honeymoon's over and we're back to the question - what is the meaning of life when there is nothing around to give your life meaning? Christian has trouble coping without constant projects to keep him busy.

Chapter 28

Amanda had been complaining about the cold and piling more and more blankets on the king-sized bed for a week or so before they finally started shutting down the house and gardens for winter. Frost had touched the vegetables, although there were chard and kale and green tomatoes for Christian to use up.  It was easy to find the last of the pumpkins and winter squash among the blackened vines, and some were stored in coolers in the root cellar and some put in truck for the trip to their winter home. They cleaned out the vegetable beds, piled them high with shredded leaves for mulch, emptied and flipped the rain barrels, put away the hot tub, loaded up the truck with all the fresh food left and most of the dehydrated and preserved food, loaded up the dogs, and they were ready to go.

They stopped at everything that caught their attention, setting up camp in stores or big homes, so it took three days to make the eight hour trip down I-75 to Atlanta in Christian’s red truck. Amanda directed him down Peachtree Street to Circle Oaks Drive to a large two story white colonial with a wide porch.

“Nice,” he said as he swung the truck into the driveway.

“It’ll do,” she said. “I don’t care about this place like I do Laurel Court. I just found a nice shopping area and picked a big house nearby.”

The first week or so was spent getting settled in. The furniture was more comfortable and practical than the fancy stuff at Laurel Court, but still one of the first trips was to get a daybed for the living room. They started what they could in the garden, mostly root vegetables and cole crops like broccoli and kale.

Amanda had it set up like a mini version of Laurel Court, with an art studio, library, well stocked pantry, cooking area with a fancy camp stove and even a pile of soft stuffed animals on a window seat in a hallway alcove. Christian claimed the last of the five bedrooms and set up a weight room, and they put a dojo for fight practice in the basement media room.   

Within two or three weeks, Amanda was settled into her routine of art, reading, playing with the dogs, walks and now cooking and fight lessons with Christian.

Christian was restless. Once he tended the small garden, got some rabbits and cooked them up, worked out, helped Amanda with her fight lesson, and messed around on his guitar, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You could build a bread oven, or some more garden beds,” Amanda suggested one morning when he wandered into the bedroom she had set up as a library for third time in an hour.

“We don’t need any more goddamn garden beds. And you can make everything you want just fine in the grill.”

She closed her book. “You could work with the dogs.”

“The dogs are fine.”

“Let’s go find a motorcycle. We’ll go for a ride.”

“Naw.”  

“Road trip? We could hit a mall or something.”

“What for? We don’t need anything.”

“I don’t know what to tell you then, baby. Come here.” She patted the bed next to her and he stretched out, his head on her lap.

He sighed as she stroked his hair. “We’re headed back to Cincinnati in a few months, so there’s no point in starting a big project,” he said. “I don’t want to do something I already fucking did. There’s no point.”

“Yes.”

He peered up at her. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

“Yes, you’re right. There is no point to anything. Nothing we could do makes any difference. It’s all pointless.”

“What the fuck?” He pushed her hand aside and sat up. “That’s depressing.”

“You’re right about that, too. It’s awful.”

He frowned. “You don’t look too unhappy about it.”

“I came to terms with it,” she said. “I tried to tell you when we first met - nothing matters. Nothing I do makes any difference whatsoever. It sucks balls. Big ones. And not in a good way.”

He couldn’t help but grin at that, but then the frown was back. “How can you live like this? Why even do anything?”

“What else are we going to do? You go get your gun, I’ll pick up some old painkillers at a pharmacy and we’ll end it. That wouldn’t matter either. Nothing does.”

He was glaring as if he was mad at her about it. “This is bullshit.”

“Yep.” She scooted closer and put her arms around him. He was tense and stiff and didn’t lean into her at all. “You have to make stuff up. You decide what matters, and then act like it does. It matters to me to be happy, and to make you happy.” She gave him a squeeze but he didn’t budge. “It matters to feel good, and have fun.” She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “That’s actually all I could come up with. It’s pretty lame. If you come up with something else, let me know.”

“We could go look for other people.”

“Yep,” she agreed. “We could do that.”

He gave a hard sigh. “There’s no one left. And if there are a few people left somewhere in the country, we’ll never fucking find them.”

“That’s true. We could go looking anyway.”

“Why?” He pulled away. “What would be the point?”

“No point at all.”

“You are no goddamn help, do you know that?” He pulled away from her and got up to pace the room. “I can’t stand just doing stuff to keep busy. I want there to be some reason.”

“Well, then, you’re just shit out of luck, aren’t you?” she asked calmly.

“Goddamnit!” He glared at her, his eyes narrow.

“So now you’re mad at me because the world ended? What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” He stalked to the window. She knew it had a nice view of the neighbor’s garage, taken out by a large tree a couple of years ago by the look of the weathering and rain damage. The overgrown, dead, littered, neglected neighborhood stretched out beyond that.  

She grinned. “You want a B.J.?” They had just done it that morning, Amanda waking him up with kisses, but she wouldn’t mind at all.  

“What?” He turned from the window, startled.

“I’m just saying, if you’re bored, we could come up with something. Or we could hit a grocery and see if we could come up with something different for dinner.”

“So that’s all we’ve got to live for? Sex and food?” He left the window and sat next to her on the bed.

She shrugged. “A lot of folks probably lived like that before.”  

“Well, I wasn’t one of them.”

“Me, neither. I was going to save the world.”

He finally softened and leaned into her. She slid her hand in his, twining her fingers.  

“So, B.J.?” she asked softly.

“Shit, if we have to.” But he was grinning when he turned to pull her close. She knew that when he was in this kind of mood, his kisses would be urgent and demanding and his hands firm and insistent. Her breath caught before he even reached up to cradle her cheek and he tilted his head with that little crooked grin.

“I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“I can’t help it.”

His warm hand was on her face, his palm on her jaw and his fingers in her hair, cradling the back of her head. Already there were butterflies in her stomach and her pulse was racing in anticipation of him pulling her to him, the kisses, his hands pulling at her clothes and then on her body, and the weight of him on her, pressing her to the bed. But he just looked at her, his face solemn and his eyes intense, studying her as if memorizing every feature.

She took deep breath and met his gaze. After few moments of his intense regard it was hard not to look away or lean in and kiss on him to break the spell. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and finally pulled her close for a kiss, but it was soft and sweet and searching, not the fierce inferno she expected.   

“I guess this is worth hanging around for. I won’t go get my shotgun just yet,” he said softly.

“Well, _that’s_ the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

He grinned and eased her back onto the bed, then again just propped up on an elbow and looked at her, stroking her cheek and tickling her lip with his thumb. He quirked his head when her breath caught at every soft stroke of his hand on her.

“I still haven’t hardly touched you,” he said.

“The mood you were in -” she gasped as his fingertips trailed down her throat. “Um, I was all set for you to come after me. I was expecting a tornado.”

He lowered his head to murmur against her throat, “Is that what you want?” His lips moved on her skin and his warm breath brought shivers and another gasp.

“Oh God.” She reached up and cradled his head against her. “I - I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He still wasn’t even kissing her, just letting his lips move on her skin as he spoke, barely touching.

“As long as I get to go down on you.”

He nuzzled her neck, his nose and lips brushing against her. She ran her fingers in his long hair and cradled his head with a sigh.  

He pulled back to look at her. He was still caressing her, his hand warm on her neck, but his eye held a glint and there was a set to his jaw that gave her goosebumps.

“So, anything I want,” he confirmed, his voice low.  

“Oh, shit. Yeah.” She swallowed hard past the sudden lump in her throat and the pounding of her heart. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, I’m going to do whatever the hell I want.”

His head hovered over her, just a hair’s distance between his mouth and hers. She raised her head, trying to reach him, but he backed up, just barely out of reach. She could feel his breath and he licked her lower lip, his tongue dragging on her mouth, dry from her panting before he moistened it. She opened her mouth to him but he did not take her. Her arm was still around his neck and she tried to pull him down to her but she could have been trying to move an oak.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?”

“Not yet.”

He slipped his hand up her arm and loosened her hold on him, hovering over her mouth again. In the distraction of trying to close that last fraction of space between them she didn’t realize he had eased her arms up over her head onto the bed until his hand tightened on her wrists.

“No.” She pulled back to look at him. “You can’t hold me like this unless I can try to get away.”

“Well, then.” His eyes glittered. His expression sent a chill of fear and arousal down her back. He shifted a fraction of an inch. “Try.”

She was used to his sweet, tender touches and kisses, making the universe all about her, or his overwhelming passion, rough and sweeping her away. She had seen this tightly coiled tension just a few times before, right before he broke and came after her like a wildcat.

Or sometimes, right before he rolled away from her, shaking and afraid of whatever he might do next.

She tilted her head, meeting his gaze, asking. He softened, smiled and inclined his head the least perceptible amount possible. Yes, she read. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.

She pulled on her hands and felt a shock. She did not move. She pulled again and tried to wiggle under him. Every other time they played this, before she gave in or he freaked out and she was left to comfort him, she could slip away at any point and get halfway across the bed before he scooped her back up.

But now, no one watching would even know she was seriously trying to get away. Her arms were stretched over her head, pinned at the wrist by one hand, his other hand braced on the bed. His body was on hers, his weight trapping her. His legs nudged hers apart and held them down. She pulled against him until she felt her wrists chafe in his grasp. She couldn’t thrust against him or pull away, and couldn’t move her hips.

All she could do was move her head back and forth, trying to get some momentum to shift from under his chest, until he braced his elbow on the bed and cradled her head, not holding but limiting and constraining her. He wasn’t even exerting himself, just watching her, smiling a little. She could feel his erection growing against her. He was so huge and hot he felt like a brand against her stomach, but you couldn’t tell from his face.

She was scared, but so aroused she had soaked her panties and could feel the short dress wet under her ass. Her body wanted to arch against him - if she could move she would have come right then, pushing against him.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, pulling again in vain against him.

“Whatever I want.” His eyes had not left hers once through all her struggles and he still looked at her now. It wasn’t a hard look but it was calm and certain, with an edge. He had explained over and over that he was so afraid of losing control, but she never in her life had seen anyone so much in control of himself as he was in that moment.  

She was sure, absolutely certain, he would stop if she said. One word, and he would soften and kiss her, or roll away, breathing hard and angry at himself. Although she still struggled uselessly with a primal fear of being trapped and helpless, she didn’t really want it to stop. And - no, not really, but just a tiny bit, she was afraid to test her surety that he would let her go.

“What do you want?” She was breathing hard, not her usual short panting gasps of arousal but between his weight on her chest and the inferno through her whole body, long deep breaths of survival.

He grinned a little more and tilted his head, but it wasn’t a softening, it wasn’t that reassuring little wink that said ‘we’re just playing.’

“I don’t know yet.” He shifted, settling himself, and she took the opportunity to try to get away. He made one move and she was back under control, going nowhere.

With his free hand he caressed her face. “Why do you like this?” he asked. “Why did you keep trying to get me to do this?”   

“I don’t know.”

“What I _want_ -” he leaned closer and she could feel his breath and see all the different shades in his blue eyes “- is for you to tell me why this turns you on.”

“I don’t know,” she said again.

“You better figure it out, then. Cause you ain't goin’ nowhere.”

She shook her head, mute. He looked her up and down and glanced around the room, assessing. He shifted sideways a little, easing her breathing but not giving her leeway to move, but now he could run his hand up over her breast.

“Damnit. I like it when you’re wearing something with buttons.” Her dress was of thin cotton, but had short sleeves and went on over her head, not something that would easily come down out of the way. “I’m gonna let go, and I want you to be still.” He felt her tense in preparation to fight.

“Ah, ah.” He cradled her head again and finally gave her a short, sweet kiss. She moaned against him. “I can do what I want, right?” he murmured against her.

“Yes.”

“I want you to be still. I’m gonna let go, and you stay right here where I’ve got you. Alright?”

She was trembling under him. He waited, watching her and not easing his hold, until she finally said, “Yes.”

He smiled and eased his hand away from hers and lifted off of her and she was laying almost spread eagled next to him on the bed. She felt the cool breeze from the window where she was damp with sweat, where they had been pressed together.

For an instant he wasn’t touching her and she could just roll away, but the game would be over. He wouldn’t chase her - that wasn’t what they were playing. The game was giving him what he wanted, and he wanted her to be still.  

He put his hands on the front of her dress, and she thought that she was fair game again. If she tried now, he would get ahold of her. She lay still, only working the stiffness out of her wrists, feeling the breeze against the wetness between her spread legs.

He tested the material, pulling it between his hands, then lowered his head and grabbed it with his teeth, pulling against his hand and ripping the dress open over her breasts.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. Her hands twitched and she jumped but she managed to stay flat on the bed. His teeth were bared as he grabbed the material with both hands and ripped it up to the neck and then down to the hem, pushing it aside off her body and leaving her bare.

“There we go,” he growled. “That’s better.”  

She moaned and thrust her hips and her thighs pulled closed against the heat and pressure in her pussy.

“No.” He put his hand on her hip, stilling her. “I told you to be still.” With two hands he pushed her legs apart again.

“Oh, God, please, Christian.”

“If I touch you, will you come?”

“Yes, please.” She was trying to keep her body still for him, but it was impossible.

“No.” His hands ran over her body, squeezing her breasts and down to knead her thighs. “I don’t want you to fucking come yet.”

“But feel how wet I am!”

“I’m gonna eat you up, but don’t you come.”

“I can’t help it,” she cried. She _was_ almost crying, tears forming in her eyes. She was shaking with the effort to hold still for him when all her body wanted to do was convulse all over the bed. He pulled her panties down out of the way, spread her legs, put his hands on her hips and held her down hard against the bed.

“Shit - you soaked right through to the bed.” She groaned as he lapped at her. If she had been able to move, thrust her pelvis toward him, she would have come instantly. But something about being immobile, not being able to move with the waves crashing over her, caused the climax to build and build with nowhere to go. She ached to reach down and cradle his head against her thighs but left her hands stretched above her head on the bed, as he had told her.

It was different, him eating her out. It wasn’t about her at all - what he wanted was to taste her, and he did. He didn’t just lick her pussy, he sucked her juices off her thighs and slid his hands under her and lifted her so he could slurp up what had run down and collected in the crack of her ass.

Free of his hands she started to move until he threw a forearm over her hips, the pressure holding her to the bed. “Stop it. Don’t move.”

“I’m trying, I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

He stopped for an instant to pull off his shirt then lay down on top of her again, his hand holding hers against the bed.

“Good girl,” he said softly, stroking her face, looking into her eyes. “You can fight me again if you want.”

It was as if his words were dynamite, setting her off. She erupted into a frenzy, pushing and struggling. He left a little more leeway this time and she twisted her hands in his and could move under him. She twisted and pulled, thrusting her hips to throw him off. She was a wildcat, doing everything but scratch and bite. She felt him adjust to hold her but was barely aware of him, aware only of fighting and pushing, throwing everything she had and knowing no matter what she did she was safe and it was out of her control.  

Finally, exhausted, she stopped, breathing hard and flushed and gleaming with sweat. She looked up at him and he was breathing hard as well, his eyes wide.

“Holy fuck,” he said softly.

“You got me,” she said, panting.

“Yeah, baby.” He released her hands and cradled her face. “I got you.” She tried to slip sideways now that her hands were free but again, he shifted his weight and she was trapped. “You still ain’t going nowhere, though.” He kissed her and she moaned, her mouth open, moving against him until he put a hand on her hip and immobilized her again.

“You want to come, don’t you?” he asked between kisses.

“Oh God, yes, please.”   

“How do you want to come?”

“It’s . . . it’s whatever you want.”

“Oh fuck.” He swallowed hard. “All right. If you want to come, you have to tell me -” he kissed her - “why” - and again - “this turns you on so much.” And then more kisses. He cradled her head, tasting, taking over her mouth, until she was moaning.

“I don’t know.”

He pulled back and just looked at her, head tilted, waiting.

She reached up to touch him, and this time he let her pull him down for a kiss. “I don’t know. Maybe - I have to hold it together,” she said finally. “After everyone was gone, I had to be strong, and be careful, and take care of myself. And no matter what I did, something bad could happen. And if everything went great, the best I could hope for was that I would be alone the rest of my life.

“But when you’re holding me, there is no decision for me to make. It’s out of my hands. I can’t fix it, I can’t change it. I know if I say to you’ll stop -” for an instant his jaw set and eyes narrowed and for just a second there was a hard, crooked grin she did not want to test.

Oh, shit, she thought.

 She took a breath. “Out there,” She nodded to the window. “it’s going to go on and on. I’m helpless. But here -” She searched for more words, then finally shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine. Good girl.” He slid to the bed next to her, pulled her up against him and kissed her neck. This time he didn’t stop her when her hips ground against him.

“Can I come yet, please?” she whispered against his chest.

He drew in a sharp breath. “First you suck my cock.” He pulled off his shorts and scooted his back up against the headboard. His grin was feral as she slipped off her shredded dress and crawled toward him across the bed. “But not for long. Goddamn, that was hot.”

She knelt in front of him. She was throbbing so hard it almost was painful and her thighs and the bed were wet. She had never in her life been so close to coming for so long; she didn’t know if when he finally said she could, she would fly into a million pieces or if she’d been teased so long she would be too sensitive to climax at all.

She looked up at him and now he was the one catching his breath in anticipation. She leaned forward until her warm breath was on him and let her hand hover right next to his twitching cock, but did not touch him with her fingers or mouth. She put her tongue out and heard his groan, but licked her lips and waited next to him.

“God, baby, what . . .” he ground out. She flicked her eyes up again and saw the moment when he realized she was waiting for him. He groaned and thrust forward and she had to move back to not touch him.

This was one act between them where she always ran the show. She was so enthused about it that he rarely had to ask, and so aggressive and talented that he had no reason to shift the dynamic. In the eight months or so they’d been together, he had always followed her lead.  

But now she crouched naked between his legs, looking up at him with the tip of her tongue on her upper lip. This was about what he wanted, and if he wanted it, he had to take it. He put his hands on her head, softly, and still she waited, breathing hard. He moved her forward, over him, and she took the head in her mouth.

He stopped there, resting his hands on her head, and she just played with what she could reach, her tongue teasing the sensitive underside, exploring the ridge all around. She sucked hard for a moment as if on a melting popsicle and his legs tensed around her and his hands clenched in her hair.

It was fun for a minute - she rarely stopped to explore here. Soon, though, she pushed her pelvis against the bed, moaning, hungry to take all of him. But his hands were easy on her head and still she waited.

“Oh fuck. Goddamnit, suck my cock.” His voice was rough and harsh and his hands twitched, pushing her head lower. She didn’t know if he even did it on purpose but she slid down easily as far as he moved her, exploring and sucking and teasing.

“Fuck, are you sure -” He understood now. His hands tightened on her head and moved her down, slowly. She groaned deep in her throat as he filled her up and then eased her head back up against the suction of her mouth.

Never before had he been in charge of how deep she took him. His hands shook as he pushed her down again and then shifted to pull her up, a little deeper each time. She closed her eyes and willed her throat to relax as he filled her, the whole length and girth of him, his hands tight in her hair and his whole body trembling.

He had her rest there, for just a moment, before he loosened his hold and brought her up, off of him and pulled her toward him.

“Oh my God, baby.” His voice was guttural, barely coherent.

She slipped her knees over thighs. As he grabbed her hair and pulled her close for a ravaging kiss she impaled herself on him, a shudder shaking both of them as he sank into her. She groaned and arched and he caught her, his arms around her back. He started to reach a hand between them but she was already convulsing, her nails digging into his shoulders and her hips frenzied against him.

She was barely aware she was screaming as she slammed into him again and again, his cock hitting deep inside and his pubic bone grinding against her clit with every thrust. It was building and building, she would destroy the universe when she finally exploded. Still it built, her climax just out of reach.

If I don’t come I will die, she thought, and grabbed his hand and pushed it between them. His thumb rested on her clit, moving and pressing and finally she was gone, over the edge and falling, a star exploding, disintegrating.

As she came back to herself she was somehow on her back and he was on her, holding her shoulders and fucking her as hard as he ever had. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, her body soft and moving with his thrusts. That was all the movement she was capable of but it was enough. His cries were harsh in her ear and his body shook with his last thrusts before he collapsed, his full weight on her again.

 

When they finally calmed, neither could speak as they clung together. Amanda was tucked against his chest, curled up like a child with her hands in front of her, one strong, warm arm cradling her head and the other around her waist. His head was resting on hers and she had not looked up to meet his gaze since the final explosion for both of them.

She was afraid to speak. Her mind was spinning, trying to sort out what had happened and how she felt about it. Her wrists felt raw, and she worried what he would do if they were bruised. Along with the fear and arousal, she mostly felt a sense of peace. She wondered at it as if gazing at a globe of spun glass, this glowing place of safety and quiet.

Would he hate himself? Would he hate her? Would they be back where they started? He had not lost control, he had been in complete control the whole time - at the thought the warm glow spread through her even as a shiver of lust and desire shook her. He felt her shiver and spread his hand on her back.   

She just could not bring herself to look up at him. Things will have to change, she thought. How could they not? But she was so afraid of losing him, somehow. If he closed off, decided he had to protect her from himself, she wondered if he would ever let her back in again.

His hands moved slowly, stroking her head and up and down her back, but he didn’t pull back to see her, either. Finally she untucked her hands from between them and slid around him, pressing up against him.

“Hey,” she said softly, her head against his chest.

“Hey, you.” His voice was soft and warm and she took a deep breath before pulling back to see him. His eyes were warm, with a furrow of worry between them. She reached up to smooth it and cradled his face.

“I love you,” she said simply.

He caught his breath. “I love you.” He pulled her closer, pressing her against him. “Are you OK?” he asked against her hair.

“Yeah, I am, baby.”

He pulled back to look at her. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Really.” She touched his face. “Are you? I was worried.”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You’re not freaked out. That’s good.”

He chuckled. “No, baby. I’m fine. I promise. I won’t freak out on you.”

“Wow.” She caressed his neck. “I just . . . wow.”

“Yeah.” He pulled her close again, first just nuzzling her neck then kissing all he could reach. “You were OK with that?”

“You know I was. I’m worried about you.” She wrapped her arm around his head and held him close. “You know what, you didn’t lose control for a second.”

“Yeah.” He pulled back. She searched his face, but his face was relaxed and soft. “I’m ok, I promise,” he said, smiling.

“If something comes up for you will you tell me?”

“Yeah, baby. I will.” He reached up to smooth her furrowed brow. “I promise.”

 

For the rest of the day she watched him, but if anything he seemed more relaxed and playful than he had been in a while.  She found him out chopping wood after dinner.

“You found something to do.”

“Yep.” He rested the ax on the ground. “This always needs to be done. I’m thinking about setting up a firepit, like we have up north.”

“That would be nice.” She watched while he hefted the ax and worked through a few more logs. “It worries me that we haven’t talked about this morning.”

“Why? What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to shut me out.”

“Hey.” He dropped the ax and came to her, pulled her close and looked at her. Even after all this time his regard was so intense she had to stop herself from pulling back or looking away. “I’m fine,” he said softly. “We’re fine. You’re fine, right?” She nodded, never leaving his gaze. “I just can’t . . . pull it apart like that. It happened, and we both wanted it to. It might happen again.” He shook his head with that little quirk of a grin when she caught her breath. “It probably will, I guess. I’m not shutting you out - there’s nothing I’m holding back. But I can’t worry at it and talk about it forever. I need to let it go for now.”

“Why?”

“Amanda, I just do.”

Why, why, why? she thought. What are you not saying? What did this mean to you? How do you see me now?

She took a deep breath and her gaze went back up to his. He was still looking at her, intent and still, but the smile had faded. This took a lot more trust for her than what had happened in the first place.

“Ok,” she said.

He took a breath and tension eased from the lines around his mouth. “Good. Thank you. Now, where do you want your fire pit?”

 

The next morning, Christian picked up his shotgun and hefted it, then put it back on the shelf. When he needed space he usually used the excuse of hunting - she never asked if he wanted company. He wasn’t interested in hunting, though. He just needed to get out of the house.

He found her on the porch, sorting out a box of vegetable seeds.

“Hey.” She smiled up at him. “I was just seeing if there is anything else we can get in the ground that will grow here.”

“Sounds good.” He leaned over, slipped his hand behind her head and gave her a kiss. He meant it a quick kiss, but of course she dropped the packet in her hand and touched his face, and her mouth was soft and warm and open to him, letting him in, teasing him back -

He shifted his hold and closed his eyes, focused on those three points. His hand cradling her head, her hand now at the back of his neck with her fingertips stroking against his skin, and her mouth warm and soft and giving under his. And now, her hand clenching in his hair, and that little sound in her throat, and how she inched forward in her seat, coming to him . . .

He eased away, smiling and letting it reach his eyes, keeping his face soft and easy with the love and warmth he felt for her. She searched his face and smiled, her face lighting up.

She is such an open book, he thought. Every emotion was right there, if she didn’t come right out and say it. If she sensed him holding back right now, she would be worried again about him shutting her out, and he did not want her worrying about that.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he said as he stood. “I’ll be back in a bit.”   

She glanced around for his gun. ”Do you want company?”

“Naw. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Okay.” She was still smiling, but the light had dimmed and there was a crease between her eyes. “Have fun.”

He gave her another kiss, quick this time so she couldn’t ahold of him, and headed out. If she’s gonna worry anyway, he thought, there’s nothing I can do about that.

It was probably October or November, starting to cool off, so a pleasant day for a walk. He stopped a block or away and started checking houses - on the third one he found a door with a window right by the doorknob, easy to break out with a rock and reach in. Houses in Atlanta tended to be locked more often than in Cincinnati and he had not bothered to learn how to pick a lock like Amanda did.  

He wandered until he found a bedroom. He grinned and shook his head when he realized he had picked up a habit from Amanda - he was scanning as he went through the dusty house to see if there was anything they might want.

He lay back on the bed, his hands behind his head. He just needed to think, without her there looking at him, waiting for something. He didn’t know quite how to think about it, and he’d been honest when he told her he really couldn’t and didn’t want to talk the shit out of it and pull it all apart. But he needed to sort out something. He didn’t like not knowing why he did what he did.

Anger was easy. He knew what it felt like, he knew what he was likely to do, and he knew what he could never allow himself to do. He knew how to apologize after and make it all better, if it could be mended. He didn’t know every single time what triggered it, but once it started he knew.  

Being afraid made him angry. The first time this had happened between them, the reason she was so worried about him now, he was still afraid he would chase her off. It was the first time she stood up to him and didn’t back down - the trash cans?  No, before that, the firewood or water jug or some shit. It made him mad even now, to think about the ice in his chest, how he couldn’t breathe and the panic when she squared up and glared at him, telling him to fuck off.

And then she thought it was a game? Goddamnit, that whole thing still made him mad.

But now - yesterday, he’d been mad at the world. Without his constant projects at Laurel Court he could barely stand himself. He’d been angry at her, too. ‘You’re just shit out of luck,’ she said, with that smirk, when all he wanted was some meaning in his life.

When she said, ‘Whatever you want,’ though, he immediately pictured her pinned under him, struggling, helpless. Not hurt at all - God no. Not angry or scared, just there, where he wanted her. Any anger he felt burnt off in that second, leaving - he didn’t know what. And that made him mad.

He was getting hard just picturing it, when she started to struggle and the shock on her face when she realized she really couldn’t move. He realized now she may not have known before that he wasn’t really trying, that every time she slipped away it was because he let her.

She knew now, though. His erection was uncomfortable against his jeans and he unzipped his pants and slid them down.  They both knew now that at any point he could get her under his control and there was nothing she could do about it.

Fuck, what is wrong with me? he thought. I could do whatever I wanted any time. But yesterday, her trapped under him, then shaking with the effort to stay still because he told her to while he ripped her dress off with his teeth -

He wrapped his hand around his cock, granite hard. He spread the pre-come around and started stroking, thinking of holding her head and fucking her mouth. That was her idea, he thought. She wanted to give up more control than he even thought to take.

When he told her she could fight him - holy shit. He had never seen a woman that wild. She had almost bucked him off. The only reason he’d been able to keep ahold of her was that it was as if she wasn’t really fighting him - if she’d been more focused he’d have had to turn her loose or sustain some damage. The feel of her moving against him, fighting with everything she had and him containing all of it -

He didn’t even know why he wouldn’t let her move, holding her hips every time she started to writhe with wanting him. She tried so hard to stay still for him but could hardly do it, her desire for him warring with her need to - what, exactly? His hand slowed on his cock as he followed that thought. What had she said? When he held her, it was out of her control, no decisions to make.

He decided when to kiss her, if she would move the slightest bit, if she would struggle to stay still despite her desire to fuck his brains out. He controlled how deep he would fuck her mouth, how long she would take all of him, her throat tight against the head of his cock -

His hand moved smoothly and he grit his teeth. It had been a while, but it was something you don’t forget. How long had it been since he whacked off? Maybe before Amanda. Why would he, when he could get it twice a day? When she came after him like a wildcat? When his kisses and, fuck, just a look could get her going? He could have fucked her again on the porch just now from that one kiss, just laid her on the ground or pulled her onto his lap. The thought of her naked on his lap, riding him - how she was pounding him yesterday, screaming like he had never heard, going on and on until she grabbed his hand to help her come -

He grunted as he shot across the bed. It only took a few seconds to recover, not like when he was with her. It was just a release, and maybe now he could think. He pulled his pants up and tucked his hands again behind his head.

He was sorry now he hadn’t looked at her right away. If he had pulled himself together and cradled her head and looked at her as he almost always did, if he had let her see how much her trust meant to him, she would know he was OK. But he hid, instead, and let her hide.  

He found that he didn’t really want to think about it after all. Why he did what he did, why he liked holding her down as much as she liked being held - he zipped and buttoned his pants and sat up on the side of the bed. Whatever it was, it wasn’t anger, and he wasn’t going to lose it and go too far. Maybe that’s all he needed to know for now.

 

By the next afternoon he had gotten a load of landscape blocks and some gravel, she had rounded up some comfortable patio furniture, and by nightfall they had their first fire in the new firepit. She cuddled up to him, her hand on his chest. 

“So . . . can we talk about it?” she asked. 

“No.” 

“Can I ask a question, at least?”

“You can ask all you want.” 

“When I said whatever you want - is that what you wanted all along?” 

He sighed. “No, baby. That’s what I wanted as soon as you asked, but it’s not been on my mind the whole fucking eight months we’ve been together.” 

“Well, do you . . .” 

“No.” 

“What?” 

“I swear I am fine, but I cannot talk about it.”  

It was her turn to sigh and she turned to hold him, sliding her arm around his chest. “That is going to make me crazy.” 

He chuckled. “You’ll live.” 

She shook her head against his chest, then turned to sit next to him and gaze at the fire. She absently rubbed her wrist with her other hand. 

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“What?” 

“There.” He pointed at her hand. 

“Nothing.” 

“Let me see.” He reached next to the loveseat and picked up the lantern and turned it on, and gently brought her hand over to the light. “Huh.” 

They looked together and saw some light mottled bruises rising on both wrists.

“Does that hurt?” he asked. 

“It’s a little tender.” She looked at him and raised her chin, waiting for her reaction. 

He pulled his T-shirt off over his head and turned his back to her. “Pick up the lantern,” he said. 

She held it up and gasped. There were long red scratches on his back by his shoulders, two on one side and three on the other. “Holy shit. Did I do that?” 

“It wasn’t Jack.” He put his shirt back on and pulled her close. His grin was naughty. “I always said you were a wildcat.” 

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“Oh, hell, I’m fine. Are you OK?” 

“Oh, yeah. It was totally worth it. Anyway, you were just holding. I was doing all the pulling.”  

He took the lantern from her, turned it off, put it down, and pulled her close for kisses. It didn’t take long for them both to get worked up and they headed for the house to finish what they started.     

 

A few days later he came back from an early morning walk and found her throwing wet laundry over the line. She had not set up a hot tub, just had a tin tub of water warming on a cinder-block fireplace by the downspout. 

“Hey.” She looked over and smiled. “Nice walk?” 

“Yep.” He stepped up behind her, sliding his hands under her T-shirt and nuzzling her neck. 

“Mmm.” She sighed and leaned back against him, holding the clothesline in front of her. “That’s nice.”

He enjoyed the feel of her melting against him as he nibbled, working his arms around her waist. She shivered as he kissed down her neck. He grinned, teeth bared, and shifted just a little. She got very still against him. He knew she felt the difference when he went from cuddling to holding. One more inch and then she couldn’t get away and they would see what happened next - 

She moved, twisting, and somehow he was off balance, trying to catch himself. Then his feet were off the ground and before he could process that he was in the air he had slammed onto his back on the grass. Stunned, he barely had time to flinch as he saw a foot coming toward his face out of the corner of his eye before it disappeared. 

“Oh my God! Are you OK?” Amanda called. “I can’t believe that worked. Are you alright?” 

What in the hell, he thought. It took another second before he could breathe in and he winced. It had been a long time since he’d had the wind knocked out of him.  

Amanda dropped to the grass next to him. He was still gasping a little when he turned to look at her. 

“Are you OK, baby?” She sounded concerned, but was trying to hide a grin. 

“Yeah.” He finally could take a deep breath.  
“I’m sorry. I could tell you were getting ahold of me, and I panicked, I guess.” She wasn’t trying to hide her grin anymore. “I can’t believe it. You didn’t go down on purpose, did you?” 

“Oh, hell, no.” He sat up slowly and moved back and forth, checking. Everything seemed all right now that he got his wind back. “What did you do?”

“What you showed me, for a waist hold from behind.” 

“Whew.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think you would fucking use it on me.” 

“I didn’t think so either, but another second and I couldn’t have gotten away.” 

“Well . . .” He hesitated, then shook his head. He thought she liked that? He would deal with that later. “Did you almost kick me in the head?” 

“I guess so. It was just automatic. I stopped, though.” 

“Wow.” He grinned at her. “That’s my girl.”

She put out a hand and helped him up.  “You OK?” she asked again. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just surprised me.”

“I know - I didn’t expect that to work. I never could have taken you down if you had been ready.” 

He smiled and shook his head. She was so excited she was bouncing up and down. He was still a little stunned. Physically he was fine, but that was  _ not _ what he expected to happen.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I could have just told you stop. I didn’t mean to do that.” 

“Damn right you coulda. Wow.”

She slipped into his arms. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey.” He shook his head a little to clear it and met her gaze. “Don’t ever apologize for that. Someone gets ahold of you that you don’t want, you take ‘em down.” He raised an eyebrow. “Though, babe, really - you coulda just told me to let go.” 

“I know. I don’t know why I panicked. I could tell you were gonna have me trapped in a second.” 

“Huh.” He tucked his arms around her. How was he going to say ‘I thought you liked that’? What did he miss . . . fuck. They’d been through too much to mess with this. 

“Well, sweetheart,” he said, “I thought you liked that.” 

“Sure, when we’ve agreed to it. When I’m ready. It’s a little different getting grabbed and pinned out of the blue.” 

“Oh, sure,” he said. 

Oh, fuck, he thought. It’s a distinction he’d missed. He was glad she’d taken him down. He wasn’t entirely sure that if she had told him to stop, he wouldn’t have thought it was part of the game and not turned her loose right away. 

“You OK, though?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve had way worse than that.” He shook his head, grinning. “I cannot fucking believe you took me down like that. What a bad-ass.” 

“I can’t either. That was amazing.” 

He saw the glint in her eye and the set to her jaw so he braced himself and was ready when she was came at him, hands in his hair tight enough to hurt and kissing him, aggressive and hard. There was nothing to back up against so he set his feet and took it as best he could, letting her push against him and devour him, pulling at his clothes and sliding a hand down to push against his cock. He was almost instantly hard - he loved this wildcat, coming at him like she couldn’t help it.  

He had on jeans since it had been cool when he left the house. Still kissing him, one hand behind his head, she tugged at the button and zipper with the other. His pants loosened, her hands were on his waist, then she slid his jeans and underwear down and had dropped to her knees and had him in her mouth before he knew what was happening. 

“Aw, fuck -” His legs were trembling already with her hot and wet and in turns tight and teasing on him. She grabbed his ass and pulled his cock into her mouth, moaning as she took it. “Godda -” He was shaking, about to fall, but there was nothing to hold onto except to rest his hands on her head. She sucked hard as she pulled him out, then she was back up in his arms, holding him up. 

“Get down,” she growled, pushing her hands on his chest and her hips against his. 

“What?” 

“Get on the ground.” 

He pulled off his shirt as he dropped to his knees. He slid his legs out as she pushed him to his back in the tall grass. There was a rock or something under him but he did not care. His heart was pounding and his own jaw set at the feral grimace on her face.

He helped her get his jeans and shoes off, and then her clothes, both of them fumbling in their haste. Without any preamble she threw a leg over him and slid down, taking him. She was wet but still tight. Her back arched as she fucked herself on him, already flushing and her skin growing hot. She leaned forward and started riding him hard, moaning and almost growling as she slammed down on him. He was caught right fuck in the middle of the tornado. 

She was moving too fast for him to keep up so there was nothing he could do but grab her hips and hold on, groaning to match her and watching her breasts jar and bounce and her face turn red. 

“Oh fuck - here -” she stopped and swung off and he took the chance to move to the side, away from the rock. Then she was back on him but facing away. He brought his knees up and watched her ass as she took him again, just fucking the hell out of him. He still couldn’t thrust against her like this, it was all her, but he braced his knees against her and grabbed her waist, holding her as upright as he could. 

Within moments she was screaming and writhing and he could feel her clench around him, over and over. He put one hand under his head so he could watch her ass slamming down on him, and he could hear and smell her juices on his cock. One last cry, grinding down on him, and she collapsed over his knees, shaking. 

He was so close - if he could move at all he would explode. 

“Here, Amanda -” He eased her off and put her forward onto her hands and knees, supporting her with an arm around her waist. Still panting, she locked her arms, braced herself and pushed back against him as he got on his knees behind her. He slid his hands up to her hips, nudged her knees apart with his and holding tight took her. God, so hot and tight, still clenching around him - just a few strokes and he was coming, slamming her as she pushed her ass back against him. 

When his legs gave way he caught himself and rolled to the side - if they’d been on a bed he would have collapsed on her back, but he didn’t want to push her down onto whatever was on the ground.  She groaned and fell over next to him and rolled over, and they were lying next to each other, side by side, in the tall grass. 

He reached for her hand, twining her fingers in his as they caught their breath. “Holy shit, baby,” he said. “You take me down anytime.” 

“That was amazing.” She rolled over to put an arm over him, but was fidgety. He was noticing the sticks and rocks under them, as well. 

“Here, darlin’.” He stood up, groaning, and reached for her. “Let’s go get cleaned up.” He pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as tight as he could. She sighed and relaxed against him. 

“Wow. I couldn’t get enough,” she murmured against him. 

“I love that.” 

She pulled back to look at him and grinned as she picked some sticks and leaves out of his hair. “I really liked you dropping to the ground when I told you to.” 

“Powerful, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. That’s never been a thing for me before, but I liked it.” She caught her breath at the thought.  

“I guess it’ll be like you asking me for shit. I can’t imagine you’ll ever tell me to do something I’m not fucking happy to do.”


	29. Chapter 29 - How are you doing this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if you could hit reset, and meet each other for the first time again? A fantasy inside the fantasy.

Chapter 29  

Christian finally found a project to keep himself busy that first winter in Atlanta. In their explorations they found a baby grand piano in a nearby house. He had barely learned guitar, he told Amanda, although he was getting better now that he didn’t have anyone to play for him, and had sometimes been sorry he hadn’t bothered with the piano. First he had to hunt down books to learn how to tune and maintain a piano, then started teaching himself to play.

She was glad to see him more content now that he had some structure and purpose to his day. She made a nest for herself on the big sofa next to the piano in the tudor style house, where she could watch him play. Some days he barely noticed when she came and went, and sometimes he lit up when she came in and was like a kid showing her something new he had worked out.  

The days flew by. Each of them had their own projects, they investigated the city and took their road trips, and had lots of new games to explore in the bedroom - and living room, and gazebo, and once with a pair of handcuffs and a jail cell they found in a little county jail in Mableton, a little town outside of Atlanta.

When spring came, Amanda didn’t mind some detours if Christian was doing the driving so they headed west, taking a few weeks to travel through the south before ending up back in Cincinnati at Laurel Court. They took a leisurely month to open the house, start the gardens, and get some rabbit, squirrel, duck and walleye started in the smokehouse. Christian tackled the repair and tuning of the one of the twin gilded pianos that was in better shape and resumed his self-taught lessons. Their anniversary, one year since they met that night in Nashville, passed unnoticed.     

It was unseasonably cool for early summer in Cincinnati, even with the late morning sun coming in through the blinds. Amanda pulled a cover up as she cuddled up on Christian’s chest. She smiled as he kissed her head and his hand trailed down her back.

“Can I ask you for something?” she said.

She couldn’t see him but could hear his grin. “It’s been over a year and you still have to ask that?” She shrugged. “Yeah, baby,” he continued. “You can ask whatever you want.”

“Remember last summer, when I asked how you picked up girls after your concerts?”

“Yeah.” He eased his arm out from under her and propped up on his side, arm under his head, to see her. “What about it?”

“Well, I was thinking about something.”  

He shook his head, his mouth quirked with a grin. “I’m in trouble, then.”

“I wondered what that would be like. What if I was sitting at the bar in the hallway downstairs, and you came in, or downstairs or whatever, like it was after a concert, and picked me up? And took me back to your room?” She bit her lip, trying to tamp down her grin. Her pulse sped up imagining the scenario, Christian Kane approaching her at the height of her crush, what it would have been like meeting him for the first time back before.

“What do you mean, like acting it out?” he asked.

“Yeah. We’d have the bar all set up in the hallway, and put on some music, and see what happens.”    

“Huh.” He rolled to his back, hand under his head. She curled up next to him again, arm and leg thrown over him, and waited.

“What about this,” he said finally. “What if I wasn’t Christian Kane. What if I wasn’t anybody, I just saw you at a bar and chatted you up, and we see what happens.”

“Hmm.” It was her turn to consider. “That would be fun, too. Why like that?”

It was his turn to shrug. “I don’t want to hafta figure out what Christian Kane would have done. That was a fuckin’ long time ago. And . . . to have you act like that, like - I dunno. Like you knew him. Like you knew me. What if it was just two people meeting, without all that bullshit?”

“Wow.” She reached up and cradled his face. “That might be kind of amazing.”

He turned to her with a grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” The more she thought about it, the more pumped she was. “I love it.”

“I do too. When do you want to do this?”

“What about  . . . tomorrow afternoon? I want some time to get ready. I need to figure out what I want to wear.”

“All right.” He thought a moment, then nodded, grinning. “Yeah. All right. This’ll be fun.” He turned to her. “You got any ideas on what you want me to wear?”

“Wow. Let’s see.” She couldn’t stop grinning. So many possibilities - “What about cowboy?”

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ that. You got it.”

She squealed and jumped on him, sliding her arms around his neck. “Isn’t it weird to be this excited about it? We’re together like 20 hours a day.”

“Yeah, me too. All right, how are we doing this?” They decided that when she was ready she would go sit at the bar and turn the music on, and that was his cue to come in. And they would go from there.

 

The next afternoon after she had grabbed some lunch she was standing naked in her clothes room, pulling together outfits and scratching at the unfamiliar feeling of big curlers in her hair. She had run out the afternoon before to some stores - by coincidence Christian had errands to run, too. He had driven them to the mall, but they had split up to shop and each had hidden their packages, grinning, when they met back up.  

She hadn’t seen him since breakfast - she sent him off with a kiss and then got her hair up, hoping she remembered how to do it and the curls would take. She couldn’t imagine what he was doing this whole morning, if he had anything to do to get ready. She looked at the clothes spread on the bed - she had narrowed it down to cowgirl or a black velvet evening gown. She tried on the gown again and twirled in front of the mirror. Yep. It had spaghetti straps and clung to her curves. It flared a bit at the bottom but had a slit that went up to her thigh.  It wasn’t a plunging low cut but fit snugly and showed the top swell of her breasts. She glanced at the bed - maybe they would do this again and she could wear the snug jeans and cute little top and cowboy hat. And the red cowboy boots she had been hanging onto for a while now.

Her stomach was fluttering as released the pile of curls down her back and combed through them. She was surprised to find her hand shaking a little as she put some makeup. She didn’t go nuts, just some lipstick and something to make her eyes stand out. The dress called for heels, but there was no way she was trying that after all these years. She found some low strappy black sandals that would do. She threw a filmy midnight blue wrap over her shoulders and grabbed a small clutch - she had pried open a cash register and grabbed some money the day before.

Her heart was pounding as she started down the stairs. You’d think this was a real first date, she thought. All I need is my father telling me not to stay out too late.

The downstairs was all set. She had cleaned it up, getting rid of all the clutter and sweeping and dusting. She had shut the dogs outside - a real hotel bar wouldn’t have little mutts wandering around. Whiskey and amaretto bottles and shot glasses were at hand on the bar, barstools were set out, and the CD player with a pile of country and classic rock CDs was set up on a little table against the wall, where a band might be.  

She fumbled a bit as she put some Jake Owen on the player. This is ridiculous, she thought. Why am I nervous? She took a deep breath as put her clutch and wrap on the bar and settled on the stool, pouring herself a healthy shot of amaretto.   

 

A full moon shinin' bright  
Edge of the water, we were feelin' alright   
Never gonna grow up   
Never gonna slow down   
We were shinin' like lighters in the dark   
In the middle of a rock show   
We were doin' it right   
We were comin' alive   
Yeah, caught in a southern summer, barefoot, blue jean night

At first she found herself shooting glances over her shoulder, watching for him to come down the stairs. Finally, she relaxed a bit, imagining herself out on the town alone at a hotel bar, enjoying her drink and the band. She was swaying to the music, singing along a little, when she felt him come up beside her.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Is this seat taken?”

She turned to look at him and her jaw dropped. “Um, no. Not at all.” Wow. He had a blue button-down with pearl buttons, snug across the shoulders, with the sleeves rolled up, and a black cowboy hat. Her heart was pounding again as he nodded and gave her a half-grin, his gaze lingering on her. His hair was in sleek waves and he had a two-day stubble, his jeans were snug and she glanced down to see shiny cowboy boots. She looked back up to see the tail end of him looking her up and down, too, with a big, slow grin on his face. He leaned toward her for a moment as he took his seat. Mmm - he smelled good, too, some kind of woodsy aftershave.

“Obliged.” He tipped his hat as he sat next to her. “You look like you’re enjoying the music.” He nodded in the direction of the player.

She had to swallow hard before she could answer. “Yeah, Jake Owen. I like him.” She looked over as she answered and he held her gaze an extra second before nodding and turning back to the bar. Her pulse was hammering and her throat was dry.

What do I do now? She thought. She took a deep breath and sipped at her drink. I don’t do anything. I’m just at a bar to meet someone, and I’ll go home when he doesn’t show. She had come up with just a few things for their little game - a reason to be there, what she did for a living, and a few things about her life. She could feel his presence next to her, larger than life, although he was just sitting quietly sipping his drink. She sighed and looked down the hallway, smiling a little to acknowledge the man next to her when he caught her eye. She adjusted her little purse, then had to catch it from falling off the bar as she fumbled it.

If this were real, before - she chuckled a little to herself. She’d be doing exactly the same thing, dropping things, trying not to stare and wondering what to say.

“Are you here by yourself?” he asked. His voice was warm and rich, pitched to charm. Even knowing that she felt a shiver.

She sighed again. “Well, I’m supposed to be meeting someone.” She glanced down the hall. “But I think he’s not going to show.”

“That’s too bad.”

She shrugged but glanced down the hall again, as if she couldn’t help it. “His loss.” She nodded as if ordering another drink and poured an amaretto.

“I’d say so.” She turned to look at him and he was turned toward her, leaning in, smiling, his look more direct. She bit her lip and turned away, but couldn’t help her smile.

“I’m Michael.”

“I’m Vicki.” She returned his nod. Michael - wow. His birth name was Christopher Michael Short, something they had never once talked about.

“Nice to meet you, Vicki. What other kind of music do you like?”

“Hmm. A lot of this new country. Folk. Classic rock. Weird environmental whale and birdsong stuff.”

He laughed, head back, eyes crinkled and smiling when looked back at her. “That’s an interesting combination. Is folk different than country?”

“There’s some overlap, probably. Bob Dylan is both. Folk is more acoustic, usually.” She smiled at him, then glanced away. He was leaning forward, listening as if she was saying the most fascinating thing in the world. “What about you - what do you listen to?”

“I’m a pretty typical guy. Rock, country, grunge, heavy metal.”

She grinned. “I’d have to ask the difference between grunge and metal. I don’t know anything about either, except they’re probably loud.”

He smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. The CD ended and he glanced over, then back at her, head down, holding her gaze, letting a slow smile emerge. “Will you excuse me for just a second, darlin’?”

She swallowed hard. “Um, sure.”

She watched as he went to the player. Wow. Again. His ass in those jeans, the shirt tucked in, everything fitted and snug, was fascinating to watch as he sauntered away. He sorted through the stack and put one in, walking back over as the song started, grinning when he caught her watching him.

“Oh, Luke Bryan!” Amanda said as he took his seat. “I like him, too.”

“I thought you would.” He tapped the bar. “Can I get you another drink?”

She hesitated and looked down the hall again, biting her lip while he watched, amused. Finally she sighed and turned to him. “Sure. Thanks.”

He poured her drink.“What do you do, Vicki?”

“I’m a research librarian, downtown.”

“A librarian? Really?” He was trying to tone down his grin, but failing. After she came up with her background story, she realized that picking librarian sounded more significant than she meant it, given his last show _The Librarians,_ but by then she was attached to Vicki the librarian.

“Yep. What about you?” she asked.  

“I’m in construction,” he said. “I’m in town a few months working on that new bank building downtown.”

“Oh, that’s going up fast!” She turned to face him, her smile wide. “I go past it every day. Isn’t it amazing? A huge building just going up out of nothing.”

He raised his eyebrow at her enthusiastic response, then chuckled and shook his head. “Well, yes ma’am, I guess it is. Most people just complain about the traffic.” He tried to hide his grin in his drink but shot her a look, teasing her about her getting into their game so heartily.

She grinned back and shrugged. This was fun to be someone else. She sighed dramatically and glanced again for her mystery friend.

“What’s his name?” Chri--  Michael asked, still looking down at his glass.

“Tim.”  

“So, Vicki,” he said softly, turning on his stool toward her and lowering his voice, “What are you going to do if Tim doesn’t show?”

“Probably just go on home.” She found she was playing with her hair, twining a curl around her finger. “This isn’t the kind of place I usually come by myself.”

“Now that would be a damn shame.” He put his arm on the bar and leaned toward her, his voice low, his blue eyes intense.

“Why?” she asked breathlessly, unable to look away.

“Well, darlin’, you haven’t danced yet, have ya?” She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. “See, that’d be a shame. You should dance as long as you’re out on the town.”   

She finally broke her gaze away and looked down at the bar, fiddling with her glass. “Maybe.” She glanced back up. “I wouldn’t have danced much even if he had shown up. He isn’t much of a dancer, I don’t think.”

“That’s even more of a shame. A pretty girl like you?” She could barely breathe the way he was looking at her. She could feel the heat from him and smell that heady after-shave and see that little half-grin. “Why don’t you dance with me?” he asked, his voice even softer and lower.

She took a deep, unsteady breath and glanced at her drink. He leaned back just a bit, waiting. She still felt surrounded by him, though, the way he was leaning in with his arm on the bar and turned toward her with his knees spread and boot heels hooked on the barstool.

She bit her lip, imagining what the librarian Vicki would do right now. Screw Tim, she thought with a grin. He was probably a weasly, boring guy anyway that her sister, um, Amelia set her up with.

She looked back at the handsome man next to her. “Why not?” And her heart skipped a beat at how his face lit up, a full smile showing every laugh line.

“Why not?” he echoed. He dropped his hat on the bar as he stood up and reached for her hand.

He led her a few steps onto the dance floor in the middle of the hallway. His hand was warm in hers, and then even warmer on the small of her back as he swung her around in front of him. She slid her arms around his shoulders so she could brush his neck with her fingertips. She loved the feel of the velvet dress moving against her skin and the heat of his hands through the material.

“So, have you and this Tim been together long?”

“Oh, no. We’re not together. This would have been our third date.” She shrugged. “My sister works with him.”

“Hmm. You’re not seeing anyone, then?” He pulled her just a little closer, not pressed to him but close enough for her to feel his heat.

“No. My mom’s been sick a few years. I've been taking care of her so I haven't dated much.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he murmured, but she glanced up to see another quirk of a grin at her playacting. She didn't acknowledge it this time, just kept her gaze serious as Vicki the lonely librarian.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said simply.

She sighed as he eased her a little closer, not right up against him but close enough that their bodies brushed as he moved her around the dance floor. It wasn’t really a ballad meant for slow dancing, but she was not going to complain.

 

You got your hands up,  
You're rocking in my truck.   
You got the radio on,   
You're singing every song.   
I'm set on cruise control.   
I'm slowing losing hold of everything I've got.   
You're looking so damn hot.   
And I don't know what road we're on,   
Or where we've been from starin' at you, Girl.   
All I know is I don't want this night to end.

 

He reached up to stroke her cheek and wrap a ringlet around his finger. “I love your hair,” he murmured. “I’ve been itching to get my hands in these curls ever since I saw you sitting at that bar all by your lonesome.”

“Oh, fuck,” she breathed softly.

He laughed out loud. “Now what kind of language is that for a librarian?”

“You’d be surprised at what all you hear back in the stacks.”

The song ended and he paused their swaying to give her an opportunity to head back to the bar if she wanted. Amanda hesitated, then smiled and started them moving again as the next song started. Vicki might sneak in one more dance with her cowboy.

She saw the flash of his grin before he pulled her close and she was pressed up against his warm chest, his hands gentlemanly at her waist, but warm and firm.

“Now what,” he said quietly at her ear, “would you do if Tim walked in right now?”

“Hmm.” She pulled back just enough to see his smile and laughing eyes and just that little set to his jaw. She glanced toward the make-believe doorway. “Maybe I’d pretend I didn’t see him, and give you a kiss.”

He chuckled and tilted his head, holding her gaze. “I wouldn’t mind. Make him jealous?”

“He has nothing to be jealous about. It would shock him and my sister, too, though. That would be fun. It would be so out of character for me.”  

“What would?”

She could feel she was blushing, and had trouble catching her breath. “Kissing a sexy cowboy on a dance floor,” she whispered,

His eyes never left hers. “I think I see Tim,” he whispered back.

“Does he look like a weasel?”

He laughed again and she could feel his body shaking against her, she was so close up against him. “As a matter of fact, he does.”

“Well, I’ll show him.” she said softly. Christian lowered his head, lips parted, toward her, but let her close the last half inch to meet him. His mouth was soft and moving on her, and so warm. She closed her eyes and opened to him, shyly teasing her tongue against his. She whimpered when he raised his head and she opened her eyes to see him take a deep breath.

“Wow,” he said. “Tim is an idiot.”

“Let’s not talk about Tim anymore.”

“Fine by me,” he growled. He leaned in and kissed her again, soft and sweet. She returned his kiss, then pulled back and looked side to side at the empty hallway.

“We’re drawing some attention.”

He grinned. “They’re just jealous.” The CD had ended, and he slipped an arm around her waist and led her back to the bar.

When they sat his hand stayed proprietorially at the small of her back. “Can I get you another drink?” he asked.

“No, that’s it for me. I’d love some water, though.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hopped off the stool and went behind the bar to get a bottled water, pouring it in a glass for her.

“Thank you.” She was disappointed that he settled back with his hands on the bar and not hot and firm on her back, but the night was young.

“So, what does a research librarian do?” He had managed to scoot his stool and now his thigh pressed against hers and his face was only inches from hers as he leaned toward her.

“Um -” She decided Vicki was a little shocked at herself for kissing her cowboy and leaned away just a little, but did not move away from his leg pressed against her. “The whole third floor is research materials. I keep it sorted and help people find stuff for research projects.” She caught his eye and shrugged.

He chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

“You’re only in town a few months?” she asked. She again found herself playing with her hair, and toying with the bodice of her gown. His gaze followed her hand over her bare skin before he pulled himself back to look her in the eye. She felt a shiver as she imagined his fingers trailing over her.

“Um, yeah,” he said gruffly. She felt a thrill as he had to clear his throat and take a drink before continuing. “The company pays for a room here for me until I move on to the next job.”

“Hmm.” It was so interesting that he picked a drifter as his character. She would ask him about that later. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna see if the band will play something for me.”

 

Christian watched as she walked to the CD player, the slinky black dress hugging her curves and the mass of curls bouncing on her back. He really couldn’t wait to get his hands in there, in both the dress and the hair. This was turning out much better than he thought. He thought it would be a diversion and would make her happy, but he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Whether she was a half-way decent actress or was just channeling some part of herself, the way Amanda was being shy, shooting glances and looking away and acting shocked at her own boldness, was intriguing.

She shot him a wicked grin as she turned, a little out of character for Vicki, and a second later he knew why as she walked back to him to the harmonica background of his song _House Rules_.

“Now who the hell is this guy?” he teased as he took her hand to help her back on her barstool. He kept her hand in his once she settled, drawing slow circles on her palm with his thumb. He tried to hide his grin when he saw goosebumps all along her arm.

She bit her lip and looked away a second, but didn’t pull her hand free. “Somebody I like. The only problem is he hasn’t put out enough music.”

“We should definitely dance to this one.” He pulled her out and twirled her around, singing along as he moved her deftly to the song. They danced through several songs, slowing down for the ballads, and although she looked up at him, eyes wide and breath catching, he didn’t kiss her again on the dance floor.

Well, he wasn’t going to, and then he did, just soft sweet kisses that he might give someone he just met at a bar who was way into him.  He loved how her eyes were shining when he lifted his head, and those little whimpers.

They ended up back at the bar, talking. It was so strange and fun because they were both just making shit up, her about her sister who set her up with that loser Tim and interesting people she had met at the library, and him about the building downtown and his next job in Austin. It felt real, though, as she leaned in toward him, laughing in delight at his stories or getting emotional about her mom. He was going to ask her if that was for real later.  

Alright. It was time to get into that dress. That had been driving him crazy, wanting to see how she felt under that velvet, and he wasn’t sure she was wearing anything under there.

“Hold on, darlin’. Let me go check in with the band.” He flipped through the CDs - yep, there he was. William Michael Morgan. He went back to Amanda and pulled her close, swaying to the music.

 

I met a girl  
She made me smile   
She made me wait   
She crossed the street   
She crossed my heart   
She fixed her dress   
She bit her lip   
She let me up   
I met a girl   
With crazy shoes   
And baby blues   
The way she moves   
Is changing my whole world   
I met a girl

 

“So, Vicki.”

“Yes, Michael.”

“It’s getting late. The place is clearing out.” She glanced around and they both grinned. Late afternoon sun was streaming in through the windows.

“Yep,” she agreed. “We’re about the last ones left.”

He turned on his full charm, holding her gaze with his head lowered, letting his tongue rest on his lip, stroking his fingers in slow circles on her back. She knew he did it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t work. She caught her breath, her eyes wide, blushing and glancing aside for a moment as if overwhelmed. It was fun to pretend the outcome here wasn’t sure. He pitched his voice a little lower and rougher, playing up the southern drawl.

“I could walk you to your car, if you got one, or get you a cab if you need it, to make sure you get home safe.”

Her jaw dropped and her eyes flew open wide. Before she could get upset with him he murmured, “Or, if you want, I could walk you on upstairs to my room.”  

“Oh!” She bit her lip and looked away, blushing, and she was shaking just a little in his arms. Holy shit. He actually held his breath, as if he didn’t know what she would say.

She finally looked back at him. “I’ve never done anything like that before,” she said softly.

“I know, sweetheart.” And then he just waited, keeping his expression soft, trying not to grit his teeth.

Another moment, then she looked up at him again, eyes shining. “Yes.”

He let his breath out with a woosh. “Good,” he said gruffly and kissed her again, a little more thoroughly. He twined his fingers in hers and started toward the stairs.

“Oh - wait.” She pulled free and went back to the bar and picked up her wrap and purse. She opened the purse, pulled out a twenty, dropped it on the bar and grabbed his hat, handing it to him when she came back to take his hand. “Ok.” He shook his head with a grin as they headed up the steps. He would have to tell her later he liked her dedication to her character.

By tacit agreement they each made a quick stop at the bathroom. Then instead of leading her to their usual room, the large master suite, he tugged her down the hall to the blue bedroom he had taken over as a music studio.

As they approached his room she moved closer to him, squeezing his hand and pressing up against his side, letting his arm brush against her breast. He pretended not to notice, but did not move away. She glanced up at him with a shy smile, her eyes shining, and her teeth caught her trembling lip, but her footsteps slowed.

He stopped next to the closed door and moved her around with a gentle tug until her back was against the wall and he leaned in, containing her. “You sure?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. Very sure.” She sighed, relaxing against him, and slid her arms around his neck. “I’m honestly just not entirely certain how this goes.”

He chuckled. This barely seemed like acting, she seemed so real, but how that wildcat who’d been after him and up for anything for the last year could be so unsure and sweet and naive -

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He leaned in for a kiss as she caught her breath. He captured her moan and finally, finally slid his hands in those curls, his fingers sliding through the waves as he cradled her head and deepened it, tasting her. She was still acting shy, open to him but letting him run the show, her tongue barely brushing against his as he tried to tease her back into his mouth.

He finally raised up and look at her, breathing hard. Her eyes were shining, her breath coming in gasps, and her hair was a glorious mess. “Oh, my God,” she moaned.

He reached out, fumbled for the doorknob, and swung them into the room. Oh, there we go, he thought. Even as he kicked the door closed his hands were all over her, gliding over the warm, soft velvet and feeling the slip of material against her skin under his hands. She dropped her things and kicked off her shoes as she locked her fingers behind his neck, melting against him as he ran his hands down over her ass, molding her up against him.        

“Are you wearing anything under this dress?” he growled against her neck.

“Yes,” she gasped.  

“Where?” He slipped his hand up between them, up to caress her breast, and groaned - there was definitely nothing between her and the material. “Oh, fuck, Aman--” He pulled back a bit and grinned at her. “Vicki.” He kissed down into her neck and across her bare shoulders, running his fingers at the edge of her dress where she had been touching herself earlier, toying with the material while she talked to him all innocent and sweet.

“Michael,” she moaned, shaking at his nibbles on her neck. Her head went back and he heard something between a gasp and a cry when he let his fingers dip behind the gown, against her skin, teasing the soft swell of her breast. He hooked a finger under the thin strap and eased it over her shoulder and down her arm until she could easily slip her arm out, hearing her soft moans as his fingers trailed over her skin. He did the same with the other strap, and then kissed down over the newly bared skin of her breasts as her dress inched down and her body shuddered under his.     

He pulled back to meet her gaze. “Baby, you’re shaking.” His own voice was rough.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s been a while since Vicki the lonely librarian has been touched like this.”

“Amanda got some yesterday, though.” He gave a teasing grin as he slid his hands down and grabbed her ass.

 

Amanda grinned in response but didn’t answer, just reached up to caress his face. “What about Michael the construction worker?”

His grin faded and he searched her face, his eyes serious. “There’s a reason good ol’ Mike has a job that moves him around. He can get laid, but it’s been a while since he let someone get to him like this.”

The way he looked at her, seeing her soul, as if she was the center of the universe - Vicki would be glancing away, blushing, overwhelmed and confused. Amanda had learned to let him in, that she didn’t have to hide from being so thoroughly _seen_. She tightened her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him slowly down toward her. He let her, not taking control but letting her pull him in until their mouths touched.

She thought of Vicki, so lonely and afraid to take chances, shocked at herself for kissing a sexy cowboy. She tickled her tongue against his lip and he opened to her. She darted in, tasting him, and then back out with a little moan. Wrapping her arms around his neck and closing her eyes, she focused on the feel and taste of him. She played with it, being bold and thrusting her tongue or nibbling his lip, then shocked at her own daring, pulling back. Not pulling away or breaking the kiss but letting him lead and afraid to follow, and then sucking on his lip or pushing her tongue in to tangle with his before again backing off, barely teasing.

She was lost in the sensations, heat building and her breath catching in her throat, when he growled and grabbed her head, kissing her hard and backing her up to the bed, his body hard as granite.

“Jesus, woman,” he moaned and kissed her again, masterful and in control. She gave in to the onslaught, her pulse racing. She hadn’t even thought about how much it was teasing him, to kiss him like that.

  He rolled them onto the bed and his hands were in her hair again, exploring through the curls and waves as he kissed her. He worked his way down to her half-exposed breasts and then kept going, moving his face on the velvet, his hands on her hips and thighs, sliding the material over her skin. He kissed his way back up and she arched her back and cried out as he went from nipping at the velvet to hot and tender on her skin.

He took her mouth again while she fumbled with his buttons, but she couldn’t focus with him tasting and teasing her like that. “Please, help,” she begged, tugging on his shirt when he kissed around to her neck.

He propped up on an elbow and made short work of the buttons, giving her that look with the head tilt and set jaw and feral grin that made her mouth dry and her heart hammer, looking at her like he could just eat her up. She helped him out of his shirt and lifted her face for another kiss but instead his just looked at her, breathing hard, his eyes moving up and down her body. She felt a flush of heat and was surprised at the impulse to cover herself. That was pure Vicki, somehow - Amanda had never felt the need to hide her body from Christian.

Her breath was coming in short, hard gasps and she could tell she was blushing, her nipples tightening from embarrassment and arousal. She raised her arm to cover her breasts but instead rested her hand on Christian’s neck, caressing his jaw with her thumb and letting him look. Vicki had spent her life hiding, she thought, and she wasn’t going to any more.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he growled, and she felt something inside her ease. What the hell, she thought, even as she got lost in his kisses again. He had told her that so many times, why . . .

He pulled back again and started inching the dress down, just a little at a time down over her nipples, and breasts, his hands caressing as he went. She arched at his light touches and at his mouth over skin already sensitized by the smooth material sliding over her.

“I need to see what’s under here. I can’t feel that you’re wearing a single thing.”

She quivered as he moved down, gathering up the material and kissing over her stomach as he scooted it out of the way. He slowed as he got to her waist, his breathing harsh as he eased it under her ass, sliding down her hips. He groaned when he revealed the skimpiest little pair of black lace panties, barely covering her and concealing nothing. He got the dress out of the way, pulling it off and tossing it aside, and scooted back up to nuzzle where her panties were soaked through. He caught the lace in his teeth and tugged and she squealed and wrapped her hands in his hair.       

He released her and scooted back up to scoop her up in his arms, pulling her close up against him. “That’s not what I thought a librarian would be wearing,” he whispered with a grin.

She couldn’t catch her breath enough to banter, she just held on for dear life. He stroked her back, down over her ass and toying with the lace before moving back up to cradle her head.

She finally calmed enough to speak. “Oh my God, Chris--” She grinned and rested against his neck. “Michael. This is wonderful.”

“Either’s fine.” He gave her a soft kiss, his eyes shining. “We’re just getting started.”

“Oh, God.” She arched her back under his hands on her breast, cradling her head, down her back to slide his fingers under those tiny panties and tease them against her. When he pulled her ass up against him she gasped when his belt buckle dug into her skin.

“Can we, um . . .” She trailed her hand down his torso, barely catching her lower lip in her teeth and looking down as she tugged a little at his belt, though she didn’t manage to blush this time.

“Sure, baby.” He sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his boots, then stood to undo his belt and jeans. She glanced away, but couldn’t help but turn to watch out of the corner of her eye as he stripped. Her jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide as he stood before her, kicking his jeans and underwear out of the way.

He was chuckling as he joined her again on the bed. “You act like you’ve never seen it before.”

“Um, been a while, taking care of my mom . . .” she trailed off as he kissed down her body, quivering under his hands but scooting back just a bit at his hard, hot cock pressed against her stomach. He grinned, baring his teeth, and pushed up against her again. She looked at him with her eyes wide and lips parted just a bit, then swallowed hard and stopped moving back, letting the length of him rest between them.

His eyes narrowed as he shook his head through a roguish grin. “How are you doing this, acting all shy after all we’ve done?”

She couldn’t help it, she broke then, her smile wide and wicked, grabbing his ass and grinding against him before taking a deep breath and trying to make her expression soft and innocent again. “What do you mean, Michael? We just met.”

“Shit.” He closed his eyes and pulled her close. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he took a few deep breaths, and he eased the pressure of his hips against hers. He pulled back to look at her, his eyes warm and smile soft. Heart still pounding, she searched his face and saw only a hint of the feral need of a few moments ago.

“Vicki,” he said softly, reaching up to stroke her face and again wrap a curl around his finger. “We’ll slow down, sweetheart. We’ll take our time, and you let me know if you want to stop.”

“No, I don’t want to ever stop.” She trailed her hand down his back, over his hip and laid her hand on his ass in a timid caress before she scurried back up to a safer spot on his back.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He cradled her head and gently fisted his hand in her hair as he kissed her over and over. His mouth was soft and sweet. He was in control but leading, not forcing. It became a game of him trying to tease her tongue into his mouth and her being shy and fluttery against him until she couldn’t help it anymore and kissed him back, more and more bold each time.

Even as she was completely lost in the dance of their kisses, she was sharply aware of his bare cock up against her skin. He wasn’t pushing or grinding against her now, just resting against her stomach, but huge and hard as a rock and as hot as a brand. It responded to her kisses - she could feel it twitch and move both when she got bold and went after him and when she got shy, quivering and shaking as if she’d never been kissed before. A couple times he couldn’t help it and started to thrust, moving against her before stopping himself.

Her hands were all over his back and chest and arms as if exploring him for the first time. She moved down to stroke his ass again, not pulling him against her but touching him a little more boldly each time. She slipped her hand over his hip and right between them, cradling his cock with her palm. He was already slick with pre-come and she moved her hand against it. What she really wanted to do was scoot down there and take all of him in her mouth, just slide him down her throat and let it fill her up. Vicki would never do that, though.

Christian had broken his kiss with a grunt when her hand slid over him, and hissed in surprise when she moved on him, her hand cradling and stroking him, pressing against him.

“Is this OK?” Amanda was breathless, her lip quivering, looking up at him from under lowered lashes. She tried to imagine, or remember, what it would be like to be equally fascinated and scared, to want so much to touch every part of him and at the same time to be so worried about doing it right. His teeth were bared and his eyes glittered as she stroked him, and her self-consciousness eased as she felt his body shaking and he started moving against her hand. She was so lost in the feel of him against her that she didn’t even realize she had closed her eyes and had wrapped her fingers around, moving with long strokes, until with a curse he snatched her hand away. He held her wrist in a grip tight enough to hurt for a moment, his body rigid, before taking a deep breath and drawing her hand up to around his neck.

“Little Miss Vicki, you are making it really hard to go slow.” Another deep breath, and he relaxed to a smile as he gently stroked her face, although his body still quivered. She buried her face, hiding against his chest and he let her, stroking her hair and wrapping her arm around her, letting them both calm. Nowadays when Amanda tried to hide, looking away or nuzzled against him, it was usually when they were dealing with something and he didn’t put up with it for long.

She actually was a little embarrassed and it took a few moments for her to look up at him. She had not meant to almost jack him off, she just so relished the feel of him and the power of getting him so turned on.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, finally looking up at him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You do _not_ need to apologize. I loved it.” He held her gaze and his smile became more wolf-like, letting a little more of his need show. “You’re just a little too good at it, is all.” His smile softened and he almost whispered, “That’s not what I wanted for our first time.”

“Oh my God,” she whispered back. All of it - when she felt he wanted to just eat her up  and she would be consumed in his heat and passion, and then when she was the most cherished and cared for woman ever, and everything in between - it was so overwhelming, and so amazing.

He shifted them and she was on her back with him leaning over her, his hair hanging down around them, his hand tracing her lip and her cheek and then down over her body. He barely brushed her erect nipple, eliciting a gasp, then down over her stomach to brush against her mound and down her thigh.

He cradled her head and kissed her, firm at first and then teasing, and his touches continued, light and on the edge of tickling, leaving goosebumps. Even knowing he did it on purpose, that he was using everything he had learned about her in their year together to drive her crazy, it didn’t stop how she felt. She felt she was melting from the heat building in her, or about to explode. She whimpered as she grabbed his hair, trying to pull his mouth to her, and dug her fingers into his hip to pull him over her. He wasn’t rigid against her, he moved under her hand, but not where she wanted him to go. If he just slid his hand down, between her legs, to feel how hot and soft and wet she was for him - but he wouldn’t follow her lead there, either. He let her pull his hand down but instead of settling in to help her come he skimmed his finger through the moisture, just enough for her to arch her back as if stung, and then chastely reached back up to stroke her cheek.

His jaw was set and body taut as wire when she pulled back to see him between kisses, and it was as slick as butter on her thigh where he couldn’t help but move against her. She knew this had to be killing him, too.     

“Oh my God, Christian, fuck me!” she finally cried out.

His grin was as wicked as she’d ever seen it as he reached down stop her hips from shifting around so she could grind against his cock. “Don’t worry, little Miss Vicki. I’d hate to rush you for our first time. I can wait.”

“ _I_ can’t!” she cried, but his wicked grin just widened and he kissed her, as soft and sweet as could be, but in her state it just heightened her need. No amount of tugging or begging was going to get her what she wanted right now. She finally put her arms around his neck and rested against him, tasting the salt on his skin. His breathing was ragged and he was shaking as hard as she was.

She took a deep breath and pulled back to see him, again looking up at him through her lashes and barely catching her lower lip in her teeth, and again feeling that rush of pleasure and power when she caught his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw in response, even through his grin.

“Michael.” She looked away and down and gave a deep, shuddering breath. She swallowed hard, then turned to meet his gaze, letting her lips part and the most open, vulnerable expression she could find show in her eyes. It wasn’t hard to show the love and trust she had for him, and she just looked at him as she reached up to cradle his face, her heart pounding. “I’m ready. I want to, so much. Please.”

 

Christian caught his breath, his heart hammering. She could go from horny and demanding, so turned on by him she couldn’t stand it, to this in an instant. Her eyes were so large on him, full of trust and need but scared, more of herself than him. He leaned in to kiss her one more time, and her lip was just barely quivering - could you even do that on purpose? Her touch was so tentative on his face and down his chest, but her hips pushed against him as if she couldn’t help herself.

“Are you sure, darlin’?” He was only teasing a little bit, now.

“Yes. Please.”

That little sweet ‘please’ and those trembling lips, and how she was trying so hard to face him and not turn away, her gaze flicking to the side a moment as her color heightened, as if she couldn’t help it . . .

He slid his hand down her body and between her legs, his finger testing her, and of course she was drenched, and hot, and swollen, and so sensitive that her hips arched off the bed at his touch. He continued down and swept the lace out of the way and then his hands were back on her head, cradling her. Elbows braced, he swung over her and she spread her legs under him, open and ready. He watched her face as he entered her, her head rolling back and her gutteral groans as he took her, just an inch or so, then back out.

“No . . .” she moaned at the loss, her hips thrusting up to capture him, before he took her again, just a little more, and she groaned now in completion. Again, and again; just a little more each time, teaching her body to make way for him, braced up on his hands now so he wouldn’t miss any of the expressions on her face. She knew now he would be back after each almost-satisfying thrust, and he loved that look of anticipation right before he was inside her again.

Finally he was fully sheathed in her. He lowered himself to her, savoring her heat and the pressure for a moment before he started moving again. She was gasping, almost crying out with each thrust, her arms wrapped around his neck, her skin growing hot and damp.

Oh. Shit. In teasing her, he’d been teasing himself as well, and he wasn’t going last a minute. “‘Manda - I can’t . . . gonna -” He was fully thrusting now, hard and fast, it was too late to stop. Goddam -

“Yes, don’t . . . stop, oh God.” Her cries under him matched her writhing. She was clenching him, milking him, and he felt like he detonated, surging into her, shaking as he filled her up. Her legs were tight around him, her hips thrusting back and it went on and on, her screams and his hoarse cries while she took everything he had to give.  

   
He came back to himself gradually, first aware of the familiar scent of Amanda, then warm damp skin against his. Her leg was over his and her arms snug around his neck, and he was on her, shifted a little to the side but still nestled inside her.

“Oh - God,” he groaned against her neck. He started to extricate himself to move aside, but her arms tightened around him.

“No - not yet,” she whispered. She was still breathless and a little hoarse _._

“Baby -”

“I _love_ feeling you inside me.” Her voice was like honey, sweet and warm. He could feel her breath and kisses on his cheek. She moved her hips under him, just a bit, and he groaned as he felt the pull and heat and throbbing of moving in her. He was still hard? How? He bucked his hips against her just a little and clenched his teeth to feel her pussy sucking and pulsing around him.

“I could fuck you again right now,” he gasped, and shifted to withdraw and move away.

“Yes, please,” he heard her soft, breathless sweet moan.

“Oh fuck -” He shifted back over her, centered himself and her legs went up around him as he slid more fully into her. He was so sensitized he could feel so much, almost ridges against the length of his cock, the suction as he pulled out, the pulsing and throbbing as he entered her again.

“God, oh my God, ‘Mand -” She was shaking under him, not just shivers but her whole body quaking, and her moans or cries were almost sobs as she clung to him. He didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, but couldn’t take any more - finally he pulled free and they both cried out as he collapsed next to her on the bed. He immediately reached for her as she scooted close - he could barely move but he had to be touching her.   

 

He might have dozed before he again opened his eyes, his sweat-damp skin chilled on his back, but warm where he had Amanda pulled up against him,wrapped tight in his arms. He looked for a blanket when he saw her goosebumps, but they had never even pulled back the covers and there was nothing in reach. He finally scooted his arm out from under her and pulled the edge of the comforter they were on up over her. He settled back down next to her and watched as she opened her eyes and stretched.

She focused on him and slid her arm back around his waist. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He pulled her close and kissed her head.

She sighed. “I don’t know what to say. That was . . .”

“Yeah,” he said again, softly against her. He didn’t know where to start, either. They wouldn’t just leave it be - they never did. He had questions, anyway - he was really curious about where that Vicki character had come from.

Oh - fuck. He knew where to start.

“Hey.” He kissed her nose as she looked up at him. “I’m sorry about that - I didn’t mean to finish so fast that first time.”

Her eyes were wide for a moment. “Are you . . . you’re not kidding. You do _not_ need to apologize for that. I loved it so much. It makes me feel like I’m so hot and sexy that you can’t help yourself.”

“Well, that’s all true. I wanted to take care of you, though.”

“You did. I came so hard. It was amazing.” She caught her breath. “And when you stayed in me, and did it again - I came again. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Wow.” The warmth in his chest spread through him and he found he was trembling. “I’m glad, sweetheart.” He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. She had come, twice, just from him fucking her. That did not usually happen - usually once he touched her or she was grinding that sweet little clitty on him, that was when she exploded.

“You know what,” he said. “If that had been Michael’s first night with Vicki the librarian, I think he’d be asking her to marry him right about now. That was unbelievable.”

She ducked her head against him. “Wow. I’m glad you liked it. That was fun.”

He chuckled. “Fun?”

“Amazing. Incredible. I can’t find the words.”

“Yes, it was.” He got a blanket over them, then settled next to her again. “Now, tell me about this Vicki. How did you come up with that?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Once I came up with her, I just kept imagining how she felt and what she would do.”

“You’re a method actor, then.”

She looked up at his grin. “What?”

“Never mind. Go on.”

“Well, I imagined she was shy by temperament anyway, and she was taking care of mom while her sister went off and lived a life. Mom’s pretty controlling and didn’t really encourage her to go out.” Christian grinned as Amanda warmed up to her story. “She only agreed to meet Tim at a bar because they’d been out before - she never would have been there by herself or to meet a blind date. You - well, Michael - happened to meet her on the night she finally decided she was tired of it, and why was she always taking care of and accommodating everyone else, when no one would look out for her but herself?”

“Wow. You put some thought into it.”

“I guess so. It was part of the fun.” Her grin broadened. “And then, when I saw you were reacting to her being all shy and conflicted, I just kept playing that up. That was fun.”

“God-damn. I woulda swore some of that was real.”

“I was really shy as a kid, so I could identify with her, I guess.” She took a deep breath. “When you sat down at the bar, so gorgeous, and leaning in, charming like the devil, looking at her like that - she didn’t stand a chance.”

“Neither did Michael, I think.” He shifted to his back. “I gotta be honest with ya, though. Before, if someone was being all shy or playing too hard to get, I just moved on. There were too many willing women to mess around with someone I had to convince to go to bed with me.” He tilted his head, looking at her again, and his grin was pensive. “I don’t know what I woulda done with little miss Vicki, though. She wanted it so bad. She was so afraid of herself but she just kept breaking through it. I dunno.” He pulled her up against him. “And then the firestorm little miss Vicki was in bed - holy shit. I think Michael suspected that.”

“What about Michael? How did you come up with him?”

“Naw, I didn’t. I just walked in a bar and saw this beautiful girl in a slinky black dress and curls. I love the dress, by the way. And the curls.” She tilted her head, waiting for more, and he sighed. “Well, I just came up with a job downtown when you said you worked downtown, and I don’t know where Michael came from.”

She was looking at him so oddly. “What?” he asked.

She hesitated, then said softly, “Christopher Michael Short.”

“Oh - fuck! I didn’t even think of that! I bet you’re right, that’s where it came from.” He shook his head. “I haven’t thought of that name in a long time. Huh.” He brought his gaze back to her. “You knew the whole time?”

“Sure I did. It was on your IMDB.”

“You never said anything?”

“Why would I? I also read you preferred to go by Christian Kane. Once in a while, before, in the groups or Facebook pages, someone would pop up and say ‘I found his real name!’ Someone would say, ‘Yes, we all know that, and he’s asked us not to talk about it.’”

“Huh.”

“We watched out for you.”

“Wow.” He hadn’t thought of any of that in so long, his birth name or the Kaniacs. That had always baffled and humbled him, that there were whole communities of people organized around him and his work. And Amanda had been part of that, apparently knowing as much about him as anyone could without him ever fucking meeting them.

“Here’s what I want to know,” she said. “You could have been anything - why pick a character that was only in town a few months? I thought that was so interesting - even in pretend, you had to make sure you wouldn’t get tied down.”

“Naw, I didn’t put that much thought in it.”

“Hmm.”  She cuddled up again, and her eyes focused past him. She glanced around, then sat up a little and looked around again. “Wow. This is great.”

He grinned. He had spent the morning cleaning up and setting it up like a hotel room, with all the instruments and clutter cleared out. He had stopped by a hotel and grabbed one of whatever shit there was, the little signs, room service menu, and the stationary.

“I didn’t even notice when I came in.” She wiggled up against him again. “I wondered what you were up to this morning.”

“Yep.”

“So, what now? What would happen now?”

“Well, it would be the middle of the night by now, if we got up here when the bar closed.” His voice softened. “I’d ask if you’d stay the night.”

“Aww.”

“‘Cause I don’t wanna get up in the middle of the night to get you home. Easier to handle that in the morning.” His grin was mischievous.

“And if I stay all night, we can do it again in the morning.”

“Miss Vicki, I’m shocked.”

“Do you think after this, she’d go back to being afraid of her own shadow?”


	30. Chapter 30: There's someone here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've been waiting for this for 29 chapters and 200,000 words - they find someone else.

Year 4

 

Over the next two years, before they lost interest and it petered out, playing Michael and Vicki got added to the list of activities to fill their time and distract themselves.  

“What if Michael is a spy?” Amanda mused one night as they lounged in the presidential suite at the Jefferson Hotel in Washington, DC. They left Cincinnati early their second year together and took a tour up the east coast instead of going right to Atlanta. Amanda set up nice places to stay while Christian scouted locations he was familiar with, looking for any people but especially anyone he had known. 

“A spy?” he asked. 

“Yeah. It’s a great cover, and there’s construction going on all over the world. He could be sent anywhere for a few months, and no one would suspect.” 

“Huh. Maybe. So he was trying to get some intel from Vicki?” 

“She’s a spy, too.” Amanda grinned and rolled onto him as he pulled her close. “See, her agency knew you’d fall for the shy type. She had to get into your room to plant something.” 

“Oh, really.” He rolled them until he was on top, his eyes dancing and his hair a waterfall around them. “Well, he’s on to her and she doesn’t know it, so he uses her to pass on false info.”

And they were off and running, the scenarios getting more and more elaborate. Sometimes they talked about it and then acted it out, and other times one or the other would throw something out and see what happened. It was a distraction from the desolation and increasing decay they saw around them at every turn. 

They almost lost Cody the second year. He slipped into a drainage ditch of rushing water and Christian had jumped in without a thought, almost getting swept away himself before snagging a branch and pulling them out. They were both shaken at the thought of losing the dogs, the only other life around them, and Amanda was hysterical at the thought of losing Christian. 

The wildlife was bouncing back, but they had still seen very few domestic animals. Christian wanted to find a big dog, “something you have to contend with,” he said, but the very few they saw were shy and feral and he couldn’t get close. 

 

“I found a diesel van with the keys in it,” Christian said as Amanda came out of the upscale mall, her arms loaded. “I’m gonna mess around and see if it’s any good. If I can do anything with it, maybe we can pick it up on our way back in the spring.” In the fall of their fourth year together Christian’s big truck was taking a very roundabout way back to Atlanta, ending up on the outskirts of Charlotte, South Carolina. 

“All right.  We just passed a grocery in walking distance - I’ll be back in a while.” She unclipped her walkie-talkie, turned it on, and held it up; he nodded and turned his on. 

“Got it,” he said.  

She waved and started off. Several months before he had gotten stuck when a porch collapsed under him and it had been a while before Amanda went looking for him, so now they always checked walkies before splitting up.  

Grocery stops had gotten so routine that she didn’t notice at first. Even now, seven or eight years after everyone disappeared, it still had a spoiled meat and dairy smell but she hardly noticed that either. She got to the canned foods and started loading the cart, then stopped and looked around. The canned meat and most of the soups were gone, and she realized the litter on the ground was empty chip and cookie bags.  

“What . . .” She picked up an empty soup can. It did not have six years’ worth of dust on it. She turned it over - there was remains of soup in there, not dried up, as if someone has scraped it out with a spoon. Someone had been here since the pandemic, and not very long ago.

“Oh, shit.” Her heart was pounding and she left the cart, grabbed her lantern and headed back out to get Christian.     

“Hello?” she heard from the front of the store. 

“Chris -” But that was not Christian. It took a second to process that she was hearing a different voice.  

“I saw your car go by. I can see your light. Is there someone here?” It was a male voice, that was all she could tell. 

“Yes!” she called, quickening her pace. “I’m here. Who is it? We just got here.”  

“Oh my God, are you kidding?  There’s someone here?”   

She got to the check out and there he was, standing in the doorway. He had blond hair, cut roughly at his ears and an irregular beard. He was wearing ragged shorts and a green tank top and Teva sandals. She stopped about ten feet away and just stood in shock, staring at him.  

“Where did you come from?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Who are you with? Where are they?” He came toward her.

She fumbled for her walkie. “Christian, come to the grocery store. There’s someone here.  Someone’s alive.”    

There was a crackle of static, then “What??”

She watched the man come closer. She felt like she couldn’t move. He came right up to her and stared at her. “Who are you?” 

She finally found that she could speak. “Amanda. I’m Amanda. Oh my God. You’re the first person we’ve found. Are you OK? Are you alone?”   

He took another step and reached up and took her arm. “You’re real. Are you alone? How old are you?”

“What?” She stepped back, pulling away, and he stepped up again, standing inches away.  Now that he was so close she could see he had green eyes and that he wasn’t that old, a lot younger than her, and a couple of inches taller. There was a sour smell of dirty clothes and sweat. 

“How old . . . what?” She took another step back but he matched her, reaching for her arm again before she pulled it out of reach. “No, I’m not alone.” She could still feel the imprint of his hand on her arm. 

She realized the walkie was still in her hand and pushed the button. “Christian!” she yelled.

“On my way,” he said. She could hear the roar of the truck. “You OK?”

“There’s someone here,” she said. “What’s your name?” she asked the man, again taking a step back. 

“Richard. Rich. Rick.” He shook his head, not taking his eyes from her. “Richard, I guess.”

“It’s Richard,” she said into the walkie. “Are you alone?” she asked him again.  

“Yeah. Everyone died years ago. I saw your truck go past my house.” He grabbed for her again and she stumbled back as she jerked away. 

She felt she could breathe again when she saw the truck screeching into the parking lot and up onto the sidewalk by the door. Christian came running in and Richard took a step back.  

“Where are you from?” Christian called when he was barely in the door. “Are you OK? Is there anyone else?” He ran right up to Richard and put out his hand. Before Richard had reached halfway up to meet him Christian grabbed his forearm and pulled him in for a hug. “Man, we’re glad to see you. Is there anybody else?”

“No, just me,” Richard said. “You’re the first people I’ve seen since everyone died.” He kept looking from Amanda to Christian, his eyes wide.

“You were alone the whole time?  Shit, that sucks. I wouldn’t have made it.” Christian didn’t seem to notice that Richard was staring next to him at Amanda, but she took another step back. “Where are you staying?” Christian asked him. 

Richard turned back to Christian. “I, um, I have a house. I saw your truck go by. I thought I was crazy.”  

“I know!” Christian’s smile was wide. “When I found Amanda, I thought I had lost my mind.”         

“You weren’t together . . . before?” 

“Naw, we met -” Christian turned to her.  “Three years? Or four? After the pandemic?”

“Yeah, about that,” she said. Richard’s attention was back on her and he was staring at her, his eyes wide.

“I’m Chris.” He put out his hand again and when Richard took it Christian clasped it between his. “It’s a mind fuck, isn’t it, being alone so long? Who did -” he stopped. “Naw, we got time for all that. Let’s get ourselves settled. We stopped at a mall down thataway - do you want to come down there, or do you want us to come up to your house?”  

“Um - ” Richard seemed bewildered. “I don’t . . . I guess come to my house. Well, not my house before, but . . .” 

“Naw, I got it. We did the same thing, Amanda found a nice place in -” She felt her heart catch and her skin grow cold. Christian focused on her for a second and finished smoothly, “Cleveland. We make do, don’t we, son?” He slapped Richard on the back, meeting Amanda’s eye with a nod as he turned with him toward the truck.  

Amanda found she could breathe again and followed them. She caught up to them and slid her hand in Christian’s. He squeezed it and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“Are you ok?” he asked quietly. She nodded, but made sure she got in the truck next to him. 

Of course Richard brushed against her as he climbed in the truck - there was no help for that. She found, though, that his thigh, hot and sticky, was still against hers as they pulled out of the parking lot. 

“You haven’t seen anyone at all?” Christian asked him. 

Richard leaned forward to answer, looking around Amanda. “No. Everyone was dying. I passed out, and when I woke up everyone was gone.” 

“Yeah, same for us.” Christian asked another question, but Amanda couldn’t focus. When Richard leaned back again, his arm touched hers. She tried to move away, but he wasn’t just resting on her, he was pushing against her, and he immediately took up the little bit of space she created. 

She looked over at him but he was looking past her at Christian, answering questions, asking a few of his own, just as if his leg and arm, hot and sweaty, weren’t pressed up against her. She scooted away, closing the inch or so between herself and Christian, and within moments Richard shifted, laughing at something Christian had said, and was right up against her again. 

She looked over at him again, frowning, just in time to see his eyes dart from her shirt back up to Christian. Her snug athletic shorts and spaghetti-strap tank top left a lot exposed and she crossed her arms over her chest. Her instinct was to move away but there was nowhere else to scoot. Christian put his hand on her knee as he talked over her to Richard, but she couldn’t tell if he noticed Richard pushing against her. 

Richard’s skin felt hot and sticky and the pressure increased as he leaned in. The smell from him was stronger now, too. Her heart hammered and she found it hard to breathe. She was just about to ask Christian to stop when they pulled into Richard’s house. As soon as Christian stepped down she was right behind him, breathing easier once she could slide away.  

They had apparently driven right past Richard’s place on their way into town. “I was, um, doing something, and I heard the engine,” he said. “I got to the window and saw you drive by. It took me a minute to even figure out what I saw. Then I started chasing you, and I saw the light in the grocery store.”

“That was a close call, man,” Christian said as they stepped onto the porch. “One block over and we woulda missed ya.” 

It wasn’t the largest or fanciest house on the block and seemed pretty ordinary - until they went in and Richard flipped on the lights. 

“You have electricity?” Christian asked, looking around in awe.  

“Solar panels. There’s a battery bank in the garage, so I have enough for most days,” Richard said. “I was in engineering at Cornell, so I was able to get it up and running.”

“How did you end up here in Charlotte?” Amanda asked.

“My family was here. Well, not right here - outside of town.” He stood silent, staring at them. “I don’t . . . what do we do now? I didn’t think anyone was left.” 

“I know, son,” Christian said, putting a hand on his back. “It’s a shock, after being alone. Why don’t you show us around?” 

Amanda trailed behind as Christian prompted Richard to tell them about the place. It was an ordinary four bedroom colonial, except for the solar. There were food containers, clothes and trash everywhere, and piles of DVDs around the TV in the living room. The smell was similar to Richard, mildew and B.O. and gym shoes, plus spoiled food.

Christian was keenly interested in the solar energy equipment, and in the workshop Richard had out back. Amanda found it interesting to watch Christian with Richard - Christian was all ‘son’ and pats on the back and hale, hearty good ol’ boy reassurances. 

It hadn’t occurred to her before how much he must have missed male companionship. In so many concerts he said ‘I wrote this with my best friends in the world,’ and he got so close to his co-stars. In country music, on the TV shows, out in L.A. - in every area of his life he had male friendships that went back decades, while the women came and went.  

They ended up back in the living room. Amanda hadn’t paid much attention to the tour, but she did see how Richard was looking at her every chance he got. What she was wearing was comfortable for a long car ride but she noticed a very uncomfortable and no-longer familiar feeling now. She saw that Christian caught it, too, and frowned a little when Richard’s gaze lingered on her.  

“Christian,” she called. “Where are the dogs?”

“Back at the van I was working on, in the parking lot.”  

“We should go get them before they run off,” she said, moving closer to him. 

“You got it, darlin’.” He put an arm around her, pulling her close, and turned back to Richard. “Me and her are gonna go take care of that, and get our stuff. We’ll come on back, and we’ll work out what’s next.”  

“Can I come with you?” Richard was speaking to Christian, but his eyes darted to Amanda. “I just . . . don’t . . . ” 

Christian felt her shiver and tucked his arm more firmly around her. “Naw, man, it’s alright. We’ll be right back. We’re as glad to find someone as you are.” Richard finally nodded and Christian waved and led her out the door to the truck. 

“Can you fucking believe it?” Christian asked as they headed back to the parking lot in the truck. “Seven or eight years alone. I would have blown my fucking brains out. I don’t know how he did it.” 

“Yeah.” She looked out the window. 

“Hey. You OK?” He reached over for her hand. 

“I’m glad you didn’t tell him Cincinnati.” 

“Yeah, I’m glad I caught that.” He glanced over at her. “I saw the look on your face.” 

She stared into the distance. “He scares me.”  

Christian hesitated. “A young man, alone a long time . . .” he finally said. 

“You were alone a long time.” She turned to him. “You saw how he was looking at me, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I saw, sweetheart.”  

“Before you got to the grocery, he came at me. I kept backing up and he came right up and grabbed my arm. He backed off when you got there.” She saw his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. 

“If you weren’t here,” she continued, “I’d be thinking about leaving the dogs in the truck and leaving. I’m not going to live afraid, Christian.” 

“I know, baby. You won’t have to. You’re not going to.”

 

Christian’s mind was spinning. Someone else was alive. Did that mean there were more? When they got to the mall Amanda rummaged in the bed of the truck while he gathered up his tools. She pulled out of one of his T-shirts and smelled it to see if it was clean. 

“I’m going to borrow this.” She pulled it on over the tank top. 

He was puzzled for a second. “Are you -” he stopped. No, she was not cold. This was going to take some getting used to. 

  They were both quiet as they headed back to Richard’s. It scared Christian to even imagine being alone that long. He could understand, too, how Richard was looking at Amanda. Fuck - a young college guy, alone for six years? As horny as he had been, a man in his 40’s after three years, he could imagine. 

If Richard touched her, though, without her wanting it - his jaw tightened.  He would prefer that Richard never touch Amanda at all, ever.  But they had talked about this several times over the years. 

Well, Amanda had talked, and Christian had agreed. The world was too small now for jealousy or old rules, and if they ever met anyone else, sex was up to the individuals. He and Amanda did not own or owe each other. Christian thought that was fine when he might end up sleeping with two - or more - women. He wasn’t too happy about it right now. 

Richard was standing on the lawn, waiting for them, when they got back. 

“I’m glad you came back,” he said, his face pale. “I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

“Of course we came back,” Christian said with a wide grin and another slap on the back. 

The dogs ran over to investigate the stranger as soon as they were out of the truck and Richard sat down on the grass to greet them. 

“I had a dog,” he said. “A golden. Barry. He was still there when I got to my folks’ place, but when I woke up after I got sick he was gone.” He cuddled Jack when he jumped in his lap and lured Cody over for a belly scratch. “I really miss him.” He was looking down but his voice broke. Christian looked over at Amanda. He understood her apprehension, but his heart ached for the young man.  

It was decided that he and Amanda might as well stay there in an extra bedroom until they figured out what was next, then came dinner. Richard mostly ate out of cans, sometimes heating them up, and seemed bemused by Christian’s elaborate dinner plans.  

Amanda came out of the kitchen. “Christian - it’s an electric oven. I can bake!”

“Good! You’ll enjoy that,” he said. He took a few steps to meet her and give her a quick kiss. She smiled and put her arms around his neck, holding him close for a moment. 

It felt strange, he thought. They still made love or gave massages almost every day, but they weren’t really in the habit of a quick kiss or hug as they passed each other throughout the day. But it was for Richard’s benefit, so he could see - she was claimed? She was his? Neither of those were true. He was marking his claim to keep her safe? It just felt so weird.   

“I’m going to take the dogs and walk up to the grocery,” she said as she stepped back. “I’ll be back in a little bit.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Richard said quickly. “Um, to keep you company. Or carry stuff.”

Christian saw her jaw drop but before she could reply he said, “Naw, she’s alright, son. I want to hear how you made it and what you’ve been up to.” He nodded at her and winked as she headed for the door. 

Christian got supplies from the truck and started on supper as he prompted Richard for his story. He had been a sophomore at Cornell in electrical engineering, he said, doing well. They tried to keep the school open after the first wave, but closed it and sent everyone home when they started dying again. Richard said his two younger brothers and parents were still alive then. 

He hadn’t traveled, he said, when Christian asked. He had looked for others for a little while, but gave up when it seemed clear there was no one in the area. He slept and drank and watched movies, went drag-racing by himself, tinkered with the solar energy system, and had some projects he was working on in the backyard workshop. 

He had trouble telling his story, Christian noticed. He would stare into space, or startle. He had trouble focusing on some of his questions. I can’t imagine what it’s like for him, Christian thought. What would I have been like without Amanda?

“Um. . .” Richard hesitated. Christian looked up from the stove and waited. “You and her - are you together?” Richard asked. 

Christian gave a short laugh. At least I don’t have to figure out how to start the conversation, he thought. “Yeah, man. We’re together.”

“Well, um . . .” Richard fumbled with the silverware on the table in front of him. “If  I slept with her . . . can I sleep with her?”  

“What?” Christian put down the spoon and turned around.

“Well, if we’re the last people on earth - it’s not fair.” 

“Not fa - are you fucking kidding me?” Christian felt his anger rising, but also had to bite back the urge to laugh out loud. This kid was ridiculous, but how would he have been?

“I mean, well, just think about it,” Richard said. A fork slipped out of his hand and he jumped when it clattered to the floor. “I’ve been alone a long time. And she’s not bad.”  

“Not - are you crazy?” That made him madder than anything yet. “Ok, Richard. Let’s sort this out.”  He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. 

“First of all, she is amazing. So fuck you. Second, whether she has sex with you is entirely up to her. She will make that decision based on how you treat her, so you might want to look at her face more than her tits.” Why am I giving this kid advice on how to get Amanda to bed? he thought.  

Richard sat up eagerly. “You mean you don’t mind?” 

“Oh, hell - fuck, yeah I mind. I don’t like it one bit,” Christian growled, and saw Richard’s eyes widen. “But it’s not my decision.” He pushed off the counter and took two steps toward the boy, narrowed his eyes, tensed the muscles in his shoulders, and lowered his head.

“Third,” he said, in his low, rough Eliot voice, staring down at him, “If you so much as touch her without her permission, if you lay one unwanted hand on her, I will fuck you up, and I will kill you. Do you understand me, son?”

Richard’s face was white and his hands were shaking. “Yes sir.”  

“Good.” Christian held his gaze another moment, then let his expression soften. “I’m glad we understand each other.” He turned back to the stove and grinned a little when he heard a long, ragged sigh behind him.      

 

When Amanda returned to the house with a load of groceries, Christian and Richard were putting the elaborate dinner on the table and some kind of understanding seemed to have been reached. Richard took care to look her in the eye, at least when she was looking, and that was good enough. When she passed by him in the doorway to the kitchen he stepped back so he wouldn’t brush against her, shooting a glance at Christian. 

Amanda had to test several boxes of baking soda with lemon juice before she found some that was still good and then whipped up a batch of biscuits to go with Christian’s corn pudding, chicken casserole, bean salad and stewed dried apples with cinnamon. 

Richard ate like a starving man. “This is really good. I never really learned to cook.” He glanced from Amanda to Christian. “Do you always do the cooking?” 

“We take turns, but I enjoy it,” Christian said.  

After dinner they settled in the cluttered living room. Christian and Amanda were on the couch and Richard on the loveseat across from them, petting on the dogs curled up next to him. The men got some drinks, but Amanda declined. She didn’t want to impair her judgement or reactions in any way. She was still wary, but Richard relaxed as Christian told stories and encouraged him to share about his life. Once he started getting over the shock he turned out to be a bright, funny young man. 

He didn’t say much to her, she noticed, talking mostly with Christian, but was looking at her for reactions to his stories and jokes, sitting up a little straighter or smiling when she laughed or smiled. 

“What did you do - before?” he asked.  

“I was a teacher,” Amanda said. 

“What kind?” he asked her.

That’s the first time he’s spoken directly to me since the grocery, she thought. “Special education teacher, for little guys. Kids with autism or Down’s syndrome, stuff like that.” 

“Oh. My mom was a teacher - she taught high school.” He turned to Christian. “What did you do?” 

Amanda saw him hesitate, but didn’t know if Richard caught it. “I was an actor,” he finally said. 

“Really? Anything I would know?” 

“Nah, probably not,” Christian said. Amanda looked at him and raised an eyebrow, but he barely shook his head.

“Richard, how did you make it, man?” Christian asked. “I was only alone for a year or so before Amanda found me, and I was about to blow my brains out.” 

“I dunno.” Richard pulled Jack on to his lap and let the dog lick his face as he looked down. “A day at a time, I guess. What else are you gonna do?”

Amanda watched Richard with the dog. Jack was loving the attention, and Richard couldn’t seem to get enough of petting and loving on the dogs. She remembered that first night with Christian, when even the feel of his hand on hers was overwhelming and wonderful and felt like rain in the desert - any kind of human touch after so long alone.  Seven years, she thought.

 

It was dark out, and the talk was winding down. “That was a big day,” Amanda said. “What if we head on to bed, and talk more in the morning?”

“Sounds good.” Christian stood up and Richard jumped up to meet him as Christian reached out his hand, clasped Richard’s and pulled him in for a quick hug.  “We’ll see you tomorrow, man.”  

Amanda took a breath as Christian stepped away.  “Goodnight, Richard. I’m glad we found you.” She laid a hand on his arm and smiled as she passed him and followed Christian up the stairs, leaving him staring after her.   

 

Amanda closed the door, got undressed and joined Christian in bed. She curled up next to him, then pulled away.

“Wait -” she leaned over and tried the switch on the lamp on the nightstand. “Ta-da!” she said as a warm glow lit up the room. “That is amazing. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.” She turned back to him and he slid an arm over her waist. “Can you believe this? I never thought we’d find someone at this point,” she said.

“I’m still hoping we’ll find the group,” he said. “All the other survivors found each other, and we’ll stumble on ‘em some day.” 

“Wow, baby. Really?” 

“Naw,” he said softly. “Not really. For while I did, I guess.”

“It would be easier than this, wouldn’t it?” 

He gave a short laugh. “Yeah. Probably. This is gonna get interesting.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I think he’s going to want to have sex with me.” 

“He already asked.” 

She pulled back to look at him. “What?” 

“While you were at the store, he asked if he could sleep with you.” 

“He asked  _ you _ if he could sleep with me? What did you say?”

“I said it was entirely up to you, and not my decision. I also told him that if he laid one hand on you that was unwelcome, I would kill him.” He said it in such a calm, soft voice it took her just a second to catch it. 

“Huh.” She grinned as she scooted a little closer. “You know what, I’m OK with both of those answers. That explains the change in attitude when I got back.”

“Yeah. I scared the shit out of him.” He rolled to his back and she cuddled up on his chest.  

“How do you feel about it?” she asked.

“I don’t like it one goddamn bit.” This time a little growl crept into his voice.

“Yeah?” She wrapped her arm a little tighter around him and sighed when she felt his arm come around her. 

“Of course not. I understand the situation, though. We’ve talked about this.”

“I don’t  _ have _ to,” she said. “It’ll cause a lot of tension if I don’t, though.” 

“What?” He turned back to see her. “That does not seem to be the most important issue here, sweetheart. Do you want to?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind it, once I can trust him. I could be attracted to him.” 

“Huh.” He glanced away, over her shoulder toward the small electric lamp. 

“Wait -” she paused until he looked back at her. “You know if I had to choose there’s no contest, right? I’d never prefer him to you.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Well, you do now, if you didn’t before.” She sighed. “We expected this, right? If we found anyone, it was one or the other of us. What if it was reversed, and we found some woman half my age?” 

He frowned. “What do you mean, half your age?” 

“We’re, what, forty-five or forty-six? How old do you think he is, about twenty-five?” 

“Huh.” His frown deepened. “Well, I don’t like that one goddamn bit either.”

“What?” She pulled back to see him more clearly. “What, Christian?” she asked, puzzled. He didn’t answer, just shook his head. 

“Oh - that I’m going to be sleeping with a younger man? If we do this?” She smiled as she touched his face. “It’s funny you think you have anything to worry about.” She leaned in and kissed him.

“Mmm. That’s nice.” He sighed. “What are you gonna do?” 

“Well,” she said, “We have some options. If we don’t want to deal with this, we could just leave.”

“No,” he said immediately.  

“I don’t think so either. There’s someone left.” She looked up at him. “Does that mean there might be more? We almost missed him.” 

“I know,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going to drive me crazy more, searching again and not finding anyone or not looking and thinking we’re missing someone.” 

“We could go back to setting off fireworks,” she mused.   

“Yeah. But they’re getting old - that’s why we stopped, it was getting dangerous.”  

“We’ll figure something out,” she said. 

“Anyway,” he said, after a moment, “Richard. Options. We’re not leaving the only other person alive in the country. So the options, as far as I can see, is that you are going to fuck him, or you won’t.”

“We also have to decide if we’re staying here, or traveling, or going back to Ohio.” 

“Yeah. Eventually. But you got the first big decision here, hon.” 

She was quiet for a minute. “I don’t know yet.” 

“I can’t believe I’m fucking saying this, but just give him a chance. He’s been through a lot,” he said.  

“I am, but he’s already - Look. Do you remember that first night in Nashville?” 

He did not bother to answer, just tilted his head and looked at her with that little grin. 

“I was scared to death,” she continued. “Even as lonely and crazy as I was, I was sure that if I met a man, or a few men, I would end up raped. I’ve told you that before. But even before I knew who you were, I knew it was going to be OK. Do you know how?”   

“No,” he said softly. 

“When you got too close on the porch swing or whatever we were on and I started to panic, I scooted back and you sat up and moved away, and gave me some space. Three times - I know it was at least three times, because the third time I almost cried. I thought, ‘It’s OK. I won’t be alone. He might not kill me.’” 

“You thought I was going to kill you?” 

“Or attack me, or something. Christian, think of all the movies you’ve seen about the apocalypse, or just society break down, I guess. What happens to women?”  

“I guess so. I’m surprised you were trying to find anyone at all.” 

“Depended on which was winning, the loneliness or the fear. I think I just kept trying because I didn’t think it would work. And I really was going to take off if I had to.”  

She closed the last few inches between them and he pulled her close. She nestled into her safe place, feeling his warmth and strength and hearing his heartbeat. She took a deep breath and was finally able to fully relax for the first time since she saw Richard.

A few moments later she felt Christian’s deep sigh. “I gotta be honest with ya, hon,” he said. “I’m not as saintly as all that. From the first second I saw you, and I realized it was a woman who had set off the fireworks, all I could think of was getting you into bed. I was just trying not to scare you off before I got the chance.” 

She pulled back to see him. “It doesn’t matter. Did you even know you were doing it?” 

She could almost hear the wheels turning as he considered it. “I don’t recall that I did,” he said finally. “I was just so focused on not scaring you off. It felt like you were going to disappear from right in front of me.”  

“Even if it was for your own purposes, you noticed what I wanted, you cared, and you accommodated it. It mattered to you that I was uncomfortable, so you scooted back.” 

He shook his head and started to speak but she put her hand on his chest. “No, you know what - it started before that,” she said. “When you first got out of the truck, you didn’t even walk up to me. You stood there and asked if you could come closer.” 

“What? No, I didn’t,” he protested. 

“Yeah, you did,” she said. “Because I couldn’t see you in the headlights. I asked if you would move over, and you did.” 

“That’s right. I had forgot about that.”

“If you did what Richard did, come at me and grab my arm and just keep backing me up when I tried to step away, I’d have gotten to my van and locked the doors and left. That would have been the end of it.”  

“And I’d be dead by now,” he said, his voice rougher. He shifted and she ended up just a little closer, tucked in and surrounded by him. “That was close, too, then. I’m glad I did the right thing.” 

She hesitated, then shook her head against his chest. It wasn’t random, she thought, that each man had done what he had. That part wasn’t a close call or an accident - it was who Christian was. 

Does he still see himself as about to lose control, and not to be trusted? she thought. She wanted to ask him, to make sure he understood who he was for her, but that bag would have to be unpacked another time.   

“Let’s talk about Richard,” she said. “So first, in the store, he came up and grabbed me, and backed me up like three times. Did I tell you one of the first things he said to me?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“He said, ‘How old are you?’ Isn’t that a weird thing to ask the first person you see in six years?” 

“I guess.”  

“Alright. In the truck, he kept pushing up against me. He was leaning on me with his leg and arm, and when I scooted toward you, he scooted over against me again. Didn’t look at me or talk to me, he was talking to you, but touching me as much as he could get away with.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize . . .” 

“And then he asks  _ you _ if he can sleep with me? Doesn’t ask me. Why would he care more about what you think about it than what I think?”  

“I don’t know, darlin’.” 

“Now.” She scooted back to see his face. “Does any of that sound like someone who cares about what I want? Does he care if I’m uncomfortable?” 

“Maybe he  . . .” 

She pulled away and sat up, pushing the covers back. “What do you think would happen if he and I did start something, and then I was scared and said stop? What did you do?” 

“What?” 

“Remember, when I said stop, that first summer?” she asked. Her chest was tight and her breathing felt labored. It had been a long time since she’d thought of the panic that was always waiting in the wings before Christian.

“Oh, about the  . . . I stopped, sweetheart.” Christian sat up, too. “I wanted to make sure you were OK.” 

“And then when you wanted to try again, you asked. Richard has already twice touched me when I was clearly trying to move away. Would he stop?”

“I don’t know, baby.” 

“I’m not sure he would. And why would he ask how old I am, first thing?” Christian just shook his head. “Because he could see I was older than him, and he was trying to figure out if I’m fuckable. I bet it has not once occurred to him to wonder what I want.”

“Hey.” He laid his hand on her arm and his eyes grew wide when she jumped at his touch. “Sweetheart, it’s OK.” He pulled her close and she realized she was shaking. “I’ve got ya, Amanda. I won’t let anything happen.” 

“I want this to work out. But I’m not going to be afraid.” 


	31. Chapter 31 - Won't put up with that forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they've found someone else, the questions from the beginning come up again - what are you willing to give up or tolerate to have a relationship with another person? Can Amanda trust her instincts? Should she?

Chapter 31

 

The next morning Amanda hesitated, then threw on one of Christian’s big t-shirts over her tank top before they went out to greet Richard, waiting in the hall outside their room. He had cleaned up and trimmed his beard, and with clean clothes and hair he was a nice-looking young man.  

After greetings, he turned to Amanda. “Um, if you want a hot shower, I’ve got it set up downstairs. The shower is hooked up to the cistern with an electric pump, and I’ve got an instant water heater.” 

“That’s wonderful!” She took a step toward him, then hesitated. Just out of instinct she had been about to give him a hug, but that still didn’t feel right. “Oh, thank you! Christian, I get a hot shower!” 

He grinned. “Have fun, darlin’.”

She ran out to the truck and rummaged for her toiletries and clothes, then went back out for a clean towel after she saw what Richard had available. The water pressure was not great but it was wet and hot and it felt like the best shower of her life. 

He didn’t say we need to conserve water or anything, she thought, so it was also about the longest shower of her life. 

 

Christian wanted to have a hot breakfast ready for Amanda, and Richard followed him into the kitchen. Christian cleared some counter space and rummaged through the groceries she had picked up. 

“That’s my girl!” he said, putting aside the baking supplies and dried milk and even freeze dried blueberries. 

“What are you making?” Richard asked from the stool at the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

“Pancakes, with blueberry sauce.” He held up the berries. “She loves that.”  

“You do a lot of cooking for her.”

“Why would I not?” Christian glanced over at him as he found a mixing bowl. “I enjoy it. I was a chef before, and she is fun to cook for.”

“I thought you were an actor.” 

“An actor and a chef. You got a way I can wash this out?” 

Richard pointed him toward the water jugs in the closet. “I could have run an electric pump in here too, from the cistern, but it wasn’t really worth it.” 

Christian focused on the pancakes for a moment, grinning at the ease of turning a knob to preheat the pan. “So, were you seeing anyone when it happened?” he asked. 

“Yeah.” Richard said. “Sandy and I were dating about a year.” 

“Shit, man, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t seeing anyone, and I barely made it losing my family and friends. I can’t fucking imagine.” 

“What about Amanda?” Richard asked. 

“She was married with two kids. Watched ‘em all die. I don’t know how she did it.” 

“Wow.” Richard was quiet as Christian flipped pancakes onto a plate and covered them with a towel to keep warm. “Um, how old is she?” he finally asked. 

“What? What difference does it make?” 

“Just wondered.” 

Christian sighed. “Forty-five or forty-six, probably.” 

“Oh.” He toyed with a glass on the counter in front of him. “My mom would have been fifty-six.”

“Huh.” Christian slid a plate in front of him. “She’s still in the shower. We’ll eat these up, and I’ll make more when she’s done.” 

“This is amazing,” Richard said after his third plate. 

“Pancakes are easy enough. You could learn how to do this.” Christian leaned back with his coffee.  

“Um -” Ricard began, and Christian raised an eyebrow. “You traveled all over, right?” Richard asked. “And you haven’t see anyone else?” 

“I met one guy, in Dallas,” Christian said. “About a year after. We traveled together about a year, and then he died. So the four of us were the only survivors, as far as we know.” He shook his head. “That can’t be right. There’s got to be others. I don’t know how to find ‘em, though.”

“So Amanda’s the last woman on earth. Did you guys try to have kids - like, for survival of the species, or whatever?”

Christian hesitated, deciding how much of the story to tell. “She can’t,” he said finally. “She couldn’t before. Her kids were adopted.” 

“Shit. Humanity’s going to die out, then.” 

There was nothing to say. Christian sipped his coffee. He had gotten over that thought a long time ago. 

“How did you two meet?” Richard asked. 

Christian told him about the fireworks. “I thought I had snapped. I couldn’t believe it.” 

“When did . . . you start sleeping together?” 

“Well, I do believe that’s none of your fucking business.” Christian let some steel creep into his voice.

Richard gave a hard sigh. “I’m going crazy here,” he admitted. “She’s hugging and kissing on you all the time. It’s just been a really long time.” 

Christian did not know you could feel two completely conflicted emotions so strongly at the same time. He really did sympathize, but the thought of hanging out in the next room while Richard and Amanda . . .

“I know, man,” he said. “It was only three years for me, before me and her got together. I can’t imagine.” 

“Did you, um, think more about what I asked yesterday?” 

“What?” 

Richard looked out the window, away from Christian’s gaze. “About her. Me being with her.”   

“Goddamnit. Why are you talking to me about it, when I told you it’s her decision? Unless I’m the one you want to fuck, you better talk to her.”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -” Richard stammered. 

“Shit.” Christian slammed his mug on the counter. “Come on, show me around your workshop.”   

Amanda finally emerged from the bathroom, pink and wrinkled and very happy. She found them in the workshop.   
“Hi, boys. What are you up to?” 

“Boys?” Christian put down the caliper he was holding and met her at the door.

“Men, then.” 

“How was your shower?” Christian pulled her close for a hug. 

“Amazing. Wonderful.” She looked over his shoulder at Richard. “Thank you so much. That was fantastic.” 

“Any time.” He returned her smile. 

She perched on a stool as Richard told Christian all about the projects he had been working on. “Well, more the first few years,” he said. “It got kind of pointless after a while.” 

He had rigged up a water filter system for rainwater, and an electronic gauge to tell him how much water he had. He had made a solar powered remote control car and got that out to show off. It occurred to Amanda that their standard of living would go up with Richard around. He was a resourceful and inventive guy. 

She lost track of the conversation pretty quickly, but Christian was fascinated and peppered Richard with questions. He was a handy guy but didn’t have much experience with electrical systems, other than cars. She smiled when she pictured the two men installing solar power at Laurel Court and her getting a hot shower every day.

As a long, animated conversation between the two men about resistance or induction motors or something tailed off, Christian looked up and caught her eye. 

“I almost forgot - I got pancakes ready to go for you.” They all headed to the house. “Me and Richard already ate, ‘cause you were taking too damn long,” he teased. 

 

After breakfast, Christian made coffee and hot chocolate and there were some awkward silences. Amanda didn’t know what to say, and Richard seemed barely able to put together a sentence, but Christian was expert at drawing out Richard and making him comfortable. Once they were comparing notes on life after the apocalypse with and without electricity, they were off and running. 

“I don’t bother with the fridge, ‘cause I don’t have enough power for 100% of the time,” Richard said. “But I got enough for most of the day. I spend a lot of time watching movies or playing video games.” He shrugged apologetically. 

“What the fuck? You have video games?” Christian sat up straight. 

“Well, yeah. I’ve got all the systems and games I could find. I wish there was some new ones, though.” He grinned at the look on Christian’s face. He has a nice smile, Amanda thought. “Why?” he asked. “You wanna play?” 

Christian pushed back from the table. “Well, hell yeah, son.” 

Amanda followed them to the living room, sitting on the loveseat with Jack and grinning at Christian’s delight. Richard set up a Playstation and they played Battlezone, which to Amanda just looked like tanks blowing things up. Within minutes the men were strategizing, trash talking and hollering like they’d been playing together forever.

Amanda started poking through the stacks of DVD’s, but grimaced and let them be when she realized most of it was porn. She finally wandered off to explore the rest of the house. She stopped at a beige bedroom stacked with books, mostly paperbacks, spilling across the floor and shoved into every space on the shelves that lined the room.    

She stepped in and picked up the nearest one. It was by Robert Heinlein,  _ Tunnel in the Sky _ . She didn’t remember that one in particular, but she was very familiar with the author. “Awesome,” she murmured. She scanned the shelf - Asimov, Tolkien, Pratchett, Bradbury, more Heinlein, Clarke, Gibson, Butler - she recognized seven of the eight. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She scrabbled through more piles - it was mostly science fiction and fantasy, with lots of anime and graphic novels.  “This is amazing.” She wanted to run back downstairs and ask Richard about it, but glanced again at the book in her hand -  _ The Book of the New Sun _ by Gene Wolfe. She started reading the first page, then absently pushed a stack of books from a brown recliner to the floor, settled in and turned the page. 

“We wondered where you got off to.” It may have been a couple hours later when Amanda looked up at Christian’s voice to see him grinning from the doorway. She was about a quarter of the way through the book and she was stiff from sitting so long. 

“Isn’t this amazing? It’s mostly science fiction and fantasy, and there’s a bunch I don’t know.” She jumped up and showed them what she was reading. “This one is really good. Richard, are these yours?” 

“Um, yeah. Well, my dad’s. He liked this stuff, and got me interested.” He shrugged. “I just kept, um, collecting it.” 

“You’ve read these, then?” 

“Oh, yeah. Most of it. A lot of them were my bedtime stories when I was little.” 

“God, this is awesome. I love this stuff.” She sorted through a stack. “ _ Dragonriders of Pern  _ \- that’s been a long time since I’ve read that. You have a lot of Heinlein - I like him, but his earlier stuff’s better than his later stuff. He got weird, kind of self-indulgent.” 

“Um, yeah. I thought so too.” He was smiling, but had an odd look on his face. “How do you . . . why do you know about this stuff?” 

“My brother and I read science fiction when I was a kid. I just always enjoyed it.” She turned to him, her grin wide. “I can’t believe how much you have that I don’t know. And it will be so fun to talk to someone about it!” She shot a glance at Christian, leaning against the door frame, arms folded, grinning at her excitement. 

“I’d be glad to talk to you about it, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Bullshit. You’ve never shown the least interest in my books.” He shrugged, not abashed at all. She turned back to Richard. “So, what are your favorites?”

 

They didn’t really settle into a routine but they found plenty to do over the next several days. Amanda got a kick out of watching them play video games, which could go on for hours. She would curl up near them with a book, or they might find her in any corner of the house or yard, hours later. She would hunt down Richard to share her opinion and ask his, and she noticed he was more and more comfortable around her. She quit wearing the oversized T-shirts all the time, and didn’t mind that he was looking at her body whenever he could because he was trying not to get caught and was being more subtle about it.   

They watched lots of movies. Christian watched whatever was on, and Amanda enjoyed the science fiction, dramas and comedies that Richard dug out for her. She amused herself elsewhere, though, during the war movies and horror films that both the men enjoyed. Whether they watched the extensive pornography collection when she wasn’t around, she didn’t ask. 

With an electric oven, cooking became an event every day. Richard enjoyed the fruits of their efforts, but neither Amanda nor Christian could get him interested in cooking. The men went out hunting together a few times. Christian was ecstatic. Richard, Amanda thought, looked a little shaken up after the first trip back with some rabbits, but said he loved it and glowed under Christian’s praise.

Christian helped Richard get supplies and hook up a few more solar storage batteries, since they were using so much more electricity. Christian learned that most solar equipped homes were useless - they weren’t independent but hooked into the grid to put in or take out power as needed. This house, though, was set up to run independently. 

Christian came in from the yard about dinner time and flipped on the light. He stopped, hand on the switch, and looked from the light to Amanda. “Electricity,” he said softly. 

“Yeah . . .” 

“I could get a guitar, baby.” 

“Oh, that would be awesome!” 

Richard looked from one to the other. “What?” 

Christian went in spells, sometimes playing every day and then not touching a guitar for weeks and he often didn’t bother when they were traveling, so Richard didn’t know he could play. A quick trip to a music store for an electric guitar and amp, and he was tuning up in a space he had cleaned out in the living room.

He worked through some chords and started on some picking he had worked out on the acoustic. “Fuck, I’ve missed this.” He grinned at her as he eased into a song. 

“ _ Rattlesnake Smile _ !” she cried. 

“Yep.” He went through it a few times, singing softly. “All right - I got it. You ready?” He laid into a wailing riff and jumped into the song.  

 

It's been a long time   
Since I wore this rattlesnake smile   
And a lotta my friends haven't seen it in quite a while   
I feel my eyes rollin' deep inside my head   
And there's a feeling of misconception in the air    
Yeah, I'm startin' to see   
Yeah, I do believe

  
I used to have a soft southern glowing face   
I used to leave my heartaches with the chase   
When you get stung with the heart of a little child   
Well, that's how you get that rattlesnake smile

 

“That is so fun. I love it.” Amanda was grinning at Christian’s glee as much as she was at the familiar song. 

“That was great,” Richard said. “Wow.” He looked a little bemused, Amanda thought. 

Christian just kept going, playing anything of his he could put to electric and just wailing in between, his voice low and growly. Amanda went and sat next to Richard on the couch, enjoying the concert. Finally Christian shook out his hand and put the guitar aside. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” 

“So, you’re a singer?” Richard asked. 

“Yeah, a country singer. Southern rock.” He came over and sat next to Amanda, slinging an arm around her shoulder. 

“That was really good.” Richard turned to face him past Amanda. “So you’re a chef, and an actor, and a singer, and you play guitar like that?” Christian shrugged, grinning. “How do I compete with that?” Richard muttered, turning away. 

“It’s not . . .” Amanda started, but looked to see Christian turning away as well, but rubbing his chin to hide a grin. Well, if they had decided there was a competition, it wasn’t her business.  

After the impromptu concert, Christian decided rather abruptly he was off to bed. She was little confused until the second the bedroom door closed and he had her up against the wall, overwhelmed by his kisses and hands all over her, then rolled them onto the bed as he wrestled her out of her clothes. His need seemed overwhelming, his kisses commanding and his hands firm, owning her. She lay back and let him in, letting him feast on her mouth and neck and breasts, following his lead as he pressed against her. 

“Oh my God, baby, what . . .” she gasped, her hands twined in his hair.

“Will you suck my cock?” he growled against her neck. 

“Oh God.” She arched against him. He hardly ever asked. She scooted down as he rolled to his back. He groaned and his hands spasmed in her hair as she took him the way he liked, deep and then teasing with her tongue. She settled in to enjoy it, the taste and feel of him, the fluid he couldn’t help but give her, the power of how he went crazy under her hands and mouth and tongue. 

“Suck me off,” he begged, his voice ragged. 

She moaned and sucked hard as she pulled back. “Fuck me first,” she said, breathless, and scooted up next to him, throwing a leg over him. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her ass as she settled on him. “Oh God. Oh fuck,” she groaned. She leaned forward, moving on him. “Can you make me come, and wait for me to suck you off?” 

“I can try.” He stroked her skin, hands guiding her hips, watching her breasts bounce and then looking up into her eyes. His breathing was harsh. “Go, baby,” he whispered. “Fuck yourself on me.” She groaned as she leaned forward and let herself go, driving against him over and over, pounding down for him to fill her up. She jumped at the sensation of his thumb on her clitty, but her squeal turned to a guttural groan as he pressed against her. She arched her back, rigid, as he played her, teasing and then firm again, leading her to the edge and over as she screamed and thrashed on him, lost. 

As soon as she had collapsed on him and caught a few breaths she rolled next to him, pulling on his ass so he was up on his side and guiding his cock into her mouth. 

Oh - god, baby. I’m gonna come hard,” he groaned. 

“Mmm-hmm.” She wrapped her hand around him as she pulled back. “That’s what I want. Fuck it.” And she was back, sucking her juices off him as he thrust into her mouth. She closed her eyes and hung on, feeling his hands clench in her hair, his harsh cries, his body jerking against her and the taste of him flooding her as she worked to take every bit. It felt so powerful, knowing what she did to him, and at the same time completely overwhelmed in every sense. The entire universe was the feel and taste and texture and sound and vibration of him. 

She worked her way up into his arms and it took them both a while to calm, but she finally pulled back to look at him. “Wow, baby. That was amazing. You make me feel so hot.”

“That’s cause you are.” He kissed her head and pulled her more closely up against him. “I can’t believe you let me fuck your mouth like that.” 

“I like it,” she said. He growled and kissed hard on her neck before settling back against her. “I love sucking you off,” she whispered and grinned when she felt his body tense. “What brought all that on? You surprised me.” 

He was quiet a moment, running his hand over her shoulder. “Well, for one thing, I haven’t had a chance to be at you as much as usual with our company. And getting out the guitar - I dunno. It got some juices flowing.” He moved back a bit to see her. “And I’ll be honest with ya. Knowing he was looking at you, wishing he was the one taking you to bed -” She shivered and felt a thrill at his feral grin. “I . . . liked that. He was looking at you, but I’m the one that gets to drag you off.” 

“Wow.” 

He rubbed his hand over the goosebumps on her arm. “You haven’t slept with him yet?” he asked, his voice deliberately casual. 

“No. You’ll know, baby. I’ve barely touched him. I was a little nervous about starting something and it getting out of my control. We’ve spent some time talking about the books, though, and I’m feeling more comfortable.” 

“That’s good. I guess.” 

She chuckled against him. “I guess.”

 

The next morning Richard asked Christian if he would teach him guitar. Christian was delighted. The first order of business was a trip to town to get another guitar, music books, and accessories. The second was to clean out one of the extra bedrooms for a music room. Amanda asked if she could stay and watch, and both men said yes. She thought Richard might be nervous with her there, the way he kept shooting her glances, but if he didn’t speak up it wasn’t her problem.  

Richard had never played an instrument or read music before, so Christian started with the basics. He was a patient teacher, as Amanda knew, and Richard was jazzed about learning guitar by the end of the first lesson.  

In the early afternoon Richard found her in the kitchen, trying to make a cake. Now that she had an oven, the baking soda and baking powder were mostly dead and she was still figuring out a work-around. “Hey,” she greeted him. “How did you like your lesson?”

“Oh, um, it was great. He’s really good.” 

“Yep, he is.” She smiled at him and opened another baking soda. 

“Amanda - I was  . . . since you liked T.J. Bass so much, here’s another author you might like.” He held out two books. 

“Oh, thank you!” She put down the spoon and accepted them. “R.A. Lafferty. I don’t know him. Awesome! Thank you so much!” She didn’t stop herself this time but reached up to give him a brief hug. 

“Sure.” He grinned. “Hope you like them.” He leaned back on the counter and watched her mess with her cake ingredients. “Um . . .” She looked up curiously. He took a deep breath. “I heard you all last night.” 

“Oh.” She looked down, trying to hide her grin. “I guess so. We never got in the habit of keeping it down.” 

That didn’t seem to be the response he was expecting. “Chris said he didn’t care if we had sex,” he blurted out.

“No.” She put down the bowl she was stirring. “He said he didn’t like it one damn bit, but it was not his decision to make. It is totally up to me. You’re not going to get what you want by lying to me.” She tried to be casual as she returned to the bowl, but her heart was pounding. It wasn’t fear, though. It was anticipation, and excitement. 

“I’m sorry - I didn’t -” Richard stammered. “I didn’t mean . . .”

“That’s OK. But seriously, don’t lie to me.” 

“I won’t.” He hesitated. “Um . . .” 

She watched as he struggled for words and finally took pity. “Richard, I need to feel comfortable and safe with you before we have sex.” His eyes widened at her saying it out loud. “We’ll get there. We’re getting to know each other. Christian and I didn’t sleep together until I was ready.” He didn’t need to know that was about two hours after they met.

He took a breath. “Ok. Um - let me know, I guess?” 

She grinned. “You got it.” 

 

Amanda had hit the library and bookstores and found books about gardening and wildcrafting in South Carolina. It was late morning when Christian found her in the living room, taking notes. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey, you.” She held up the book to show him. “Hopefully I can gather us a salad soon.” 

“Awesome. I’m headed out - I need to hit a hardware store. You wanna come?” 

“Naw, I’m good. Is Richard going?” 

“No, he’s working on something in the garage.”

“All right. Have fun.” She turned back to her book. 

He stopped and looked at her, hand on the doorframe. “You ok?” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” He stood another moment, his expression serious. “We’re fine,” she said again. “Go.” He finally nodded and left. 

So, Richard and I are here alone, she thought. She wasn’t afraid. She thought she could take care of herself, especially since Richard didn’t know she knew self-defense. She shifted on the couch. She was getting a little turned on thinking about touching him, and what his reaction would be when he got to touch her. How would it be different from Christian? Would he be shy? He would probably be so eager. 

She wasn’t surprised when he showed up in the doorway two or three minutes later. “Um, Chris went to the hardware store. He’ll be back in a while.” 

“Yeah, he told me.” She closed her book and put it down. 

He stood in the doorway looking at her, his brow furrowed. He was taller and leaner than Christian, and so very young. She patted the couch. “Come sit down.” He swallowed hard and crossed the room, sitting turned to face her. He had changed and cleaned up and shaved since she had seen him that morning. She reached over and took his hand, sliding her fingers between his. He jumped at her touch. His pulse was visible in his throat and he looked at her, eyes wide, as if afraid to move. She felt her pulse speed up in response. She remembered how that had felt, that first touch when Christian took her hand. 

She squeezed his hand and he returned it, goosebumps rising on his arm as she drew circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. God, he is so young, she thought. She studied his face, so smooth compared to Christian’s laugh lines and creases. She smiled as she gazed into his  brown eyes, framed by shaggy, rough-cut blond hair. He really was cute, with chiseled cheekbones and one little dimple, she noticed, as he slowly returned her smile.

This is going to happen, she thought. There’s no sense in being coy. She scooted closer until her leg was pressing against his and slid her hand behind his head, cradling him and stroking her thumb on the soft skin behind his ear. Her breath caught as she pulled him close for a kiss. 

He groaned as she tasted him. She could feel him trembling as she moved on him, her tongue soft and then teasing into his mouth. He was gasping when she pulled back, his breathing hard. Her skin was hot under his hand, inching up under her shirt. 

“Can I, um -” His voice was hoarse as his hand twitched upwards. 

“Yeah.” He slid up and captured her breast with a groan as she arched into his hand. 

“Oh my God -” He slipped his other hand out of hers and had both hands on her, squeezing and caressing her breasts and returning her kisses. “I can’t believe this,” he moaned. 

Her nipples hardened under his touch and the heat was building. “Do you want to go upstairs with me?” she whispered against him. 

“Oh - God. Yes -” She kissed him again, hard, then pulled away and headed for the stairs, looking back and grinning. He jumped and followed her to the door of his room. “Oh - shit.” He stopped, looking stricken. “Amanda, that’s - my room’s a mess. It’s disgusting.” 

“I don’t care. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room. 

 

Christian dropped the box of hardware on the dining room table and followed the sound of running water to the bathroom. “Amanda?” 

“Hi! You’re back.” 

“Yep. Where’s Richard?” 

The water turned off. “He’s taking a nap.” 

“Huh.”

She pushed back the shower curtain and held out her hand. He looked around and handed her a towel from the hook. “Thanks,” she said. He watched, smiling, as she dried off. “Let me throw some clothes on, and then can we go for a walk?” 

“Sure.” 

He stepped back and watched her run naked up the stairs, then waited on the porch until she came out in a teal buttoned sundress. “I wrote a note for Richard letting him know where we are,” she said, taking his arm. 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Just around the block,” she said.

She was quiet as they strolled down the street, her fingers twined in his and his arm tucked up against her. He was itching to ask what was up, but held his tongue. Her breast was pressed against his arm through the thin material, and he glanced down and eyed the buttons down the front of her dress. 

“So,” she said as they turned a corner and were out of sight of the house, “Richard and I had sex.” 

“Huh. I wondered if that’s what was going on.”  He thought he would have a stronger reaction when it finally happened, but he felt pretty calm. He glanced at her. She was holding tightly to his arm, looking over the trashed, weedy yards, thick with small trees and bushes, not meeting his gaze. “How was it?” 

“Hmm?” She looked up briefly. “Oh, it was fine.” 

“Fine? It was fine?” 

“Yeah. It was OK.” 

“Huh.” What the hell, he thought. “What did you tell him?” 

“He fell asleep. I’ll tell him it was fun, which it was.” 

Every time he and Amanda touched, even now after all these years, as soon as she could speak she looked at him and said it was amazing or wonderful or fantastic. What will you tell him about me? he thought, but couldn’t ask.  

“Do you want to know more?” she asked softly. 

He didn’t answer right away. Yes, he wanted to know everything, every touch, every word, but at the same time he was afraid to. The tight coil in his chest wasn’t jealousy like he had ever felt it before, because there was no betrayal, no hiding or lying. He wasn’t afraid of losing her to this punk kid, but he was a kid. Could he last longer? Was he better? 

They had wandered another half block while he considered. She had slipped an arm around his waist and he could feel the heat of her hand on his ass. 

“If you want to tell me,” he finally said. 

She grinned and gave him a squeeze. “I’ll give you some statistics. He finished the first time in about 30 seconds. He came three times. I came zero times.” She raised her hand, fingers and thumb together, making a circle. 

“What . . . How did he even fucking manage that? I look at you and you come.” 

“Well, he’s not you, for one thing.” Christian let loose a breath he didn’t know he was holding and felt something inside him ease. “And he was pretty focused on the fact that he was getting some after seven years. He wasn’t really focused on me.” 

“Damn,” Christian said softly. “He missed the best part.” 

She grinned. “I won’t put up with that forever. It’s OK for now.” 

They strolled on, hand in hand. “Three times?” Christian asked. 

“We fucked twice, and I sucked him off.” 

“What did he think of that?” 

“Blew his mind.” 

“I bet.” He stopped and pulled her around until she was leaning up against him, soft and a warm. She started to pull back to look at him but he tensed his arms just a little to ease her toward him and she tucked into his chest. He closed his eyes and rested his head on her, his arms snug around her waist. 

“Do you want to?” he asked against her neck. 

“Want to what?” 

“Come.” 

“Yeah, kinda.” 

He grinned against her, letting his mouth tickle her skin. “Do you want help with that?”  

It was subtle but she was right up against him, and he heard and felt the little catch in her breath, that little gasp at even the thought of him touching her. 

“I’d like that,” she murmured. 

“Me too, darlin’.”  He started with kisses right there on the street until she was moaning and holding on to him for support, then broke into a house and pulled her in after him. 

 

Amanda was on her back, still catching her breath, and he was on his side up against her, his arm over her waist and his head up on his hand, watching her. 

“Was that four times?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Wow. You wouldn’t quit.” She took a deep breath and pulled back to looked at him. “You are so goddamn smug.” He shrugged but his self-satisfied smile didn’t fade. She scooted closer to nuzzle his neck. “You didn’t finish.” 

“I’m fine, baby. This was fun.” 

She turned on her side and ran her hand down, over his ass and between them to cradle his half-hard cock. “Why do you think you can get away with that?” she murmured. She milked him, bringing out enough juices to make him slick against her palm. He groaned as she wrapped her fingers around him, fully hard now, and stroked, teasing the sensitive spots and giving pressure where he liked it and she felt his body tense, trembling. 

Her breath caught and she was wet again at how affected he was by her touch. She slipped her other hand into his hair, little by little pulling harder and harder as he thrust against her hand, his breathing growing harsh and his body damp with sweat.  

She used her grip on his hair to move his head back a little so she could get in to suck and nibble on his neck. “Fuck me,” she growled against him.

“Goddamn you -” In an instant she was on her back, her hands pinned above her head and his knees pushing her thighs apart. He looked down at her, eyes glittering, then released her hands and shoved her thighs up, her legs over his shoulders as he drove into her. 

“Oh - God -” Her body wanted to arch up to meet him but all she could do was respond to his thrusts. He was up on his knees, his hands wrapped around her thighs tight enough to lift her off the bed as he pounded her. She put her hands over over head, twisting them in the pillow, her body jarring, watching his face as he took her, masterful and in control.

“You didn’t get enough? You want me to fuck you?” he ground out, his fingers digging in as he pulled her to him, slamming her down on his cock. “Is this what you want?” 

“God - yes -” Her head went back, eyes closed, but she forced her gaze back on his face. She didn’t want to miss a second - it was like watching a god, the raw need and almost fury on his face, the muscles bulging on his arms and chest, his eyes glittering like diamonds, his hair flying around, his knuckles white on her legs. She was completely at his mercy and she could feel the blush rise and hot sweat break on her as he grit his teeth and held her tighter, shifting her up to drive even harder and deeper. 

“Please - don’t - stop . .” she gasped. He was so deep, so hard - she couldn’t help it anymore, her head went back, torso arching off the bed, her hands grasping to hold his thighs as her screams were torn from her throat. He didn’t stop or slow down - if anything it was harder, faster as rode the crest of her climax, with her writhing and convulsing under him. She was flushing hot and cold, her body shaking, when he finally released her. Her legs fell flat on the bed, spread wide, and he was on her and she could feel his weight and could desperately kiss and bite his neck and shoulder as he cried out and quivered and filled her up with a few more hard thrusts.   

 

They were both flat on the bed this time. As Amanda caught her breath, she felt around on the bed until she found his hand and twined her fingers in his. Neither spoke, just rested with their hands touching, until finally Christian rolled over and draped himself on her, his hand resting on her breast. “Goddamn, baby,” he murmured against her shoulder. 

“Yeah.” She laid her arm over his. “Wow.” 

“What am I going to do with you?” he said between kisses over her shoulder. 

“Fuck me.” 

He chuckled and lifted up on his elbow to see her expression. “Now who’s smug?” 

“Me, I guess. I don’t know why you thought that would go any other way.” 

“I like how you let me think I’m in control sometimes.”  He was back to kissing on her neck and shoulder, gently stroking her breast. 

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and felt herself melt further into the bed under his touches. She felt so safe and cherished. And sated. Just cared for and seen to the core. She thought about the sex with Richard. He had been thrilled to get ahold of female body parts, but Amanda wasn’t sure if he noticed an actual person was with him. I don’t think he made eye contact once, she thought. She was spoiled - Christian was such a generous lover. Maybe Richard can be taught. She smiled at the thought of guiding him, teaching him all that Christian had taught her about what pleasured her. 

“So,” she said. “Any thoughts or anything about me and Richard?” 

He rested his head on her, quiet for a moment. “I’m gonna tell you what,” he said finally. “You leave his bed and come right to me, like this? Naw, I’m good. I’m not losing anything, and as long as you’re happy.” He stopped to consider. “I don’t know how I’ll feel when I see you together. We’ll see. As long as he treats you right.” 

He pulled back to see her. “Here’s the truth, though. If it were the other way around? You left my bed and went to him? I’d be pissed.” 

“Well, maybe we don’t tell him.” She shrugged. “Or maybe we do. I don’t care. His feelings are not my responsibility.”  

“Ok - my turn. Here’s my question. How the hell did he manage not getting you off? I kiss on your neck and you come.”

“Well, he didn’t kiss my neck, for one thing. Think about it - he had a girlfriend for a year, and then watched porn for seven years. He has no idea what he’s doing. I’m not sure he realized another real live person was involved.” She paused at his frown. “Do you know what I mean? It didn’t occur to him to think about my pleasure. He was just thrilled to have boobs and a pussy and a mouth to play with.” 

“What the fuck?” He half sat up, eyes narrowed, a set to his jaw. 

“Christian, hang on. Think about this. In porn, especially the hard-core stuff he has, do they ever stop to check if the woman is turned on, or show any kind of realistic arousal or orgasm? Do they ever show foreplay?”

He hesitated. “No, I guess not.” 

“They don’t even show consent. Almost every one of his DVDs, the guy has the woman by the throat or hitting her or pushing her around or holding her down. Or she’s tied up, for God’s sake. Have you seen what he has? After a year of sex with an 18 year old girlfriend, that’s all he’s seen. How would he know as much as you do?” 

He sighed and laid back down. “I guess. What are you going to do? You can’t put up with that shit.”   

“Welll,” she said, drawing it out, not hiding her grin, “I wonder if he’s teachable. I could, like, tutor him. Show him what I like. We could have a Mrs. Robinson situation.” 

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” 

She ducked her head, biting her lip, before looking back up. “I might be.” 


	32. Chapter 32 - You wanna give him a demonstration?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She still has misgivings, but is there a chance this might work out for the three of them?

Chapter 32 

 

They weren’t in a hurry, but finally made their way back to the house. Richard must have been watching for them, running out to meet them as soon as they were in sight of the house. 

“You came back. I was afraid . . .”

“Of course we did,” Amanda said. “Did you see my note?” 

“Yeah, I just thought . . .” He trailed off and followed them into the house. 

“I told Christian,” Amanda said. “He knows we were together. It’s all good.” 

“R - really?” Richard looked from one to the other. 

“Yeah, man. Just treat her right,” Christian said gruffly. 

“Oh - yeah. Sure. Um - really?” 

Christian shook his head and left the room, and she heard the back door slam. She didn’t blame him - this was weird. 

“Richard, here is how it will go,” she said. “You can ask for whatever you want, and I’ll tell you yes or no. If I say no, you don’t give me shit or pressure. OK? If I want something, I’ll ask, and you can tell me no, too.” 

“Um, OK. You mean . . .” He trailed off again, helpless. 

“If you want sex, or anything in particular. Ask. I can’t read minds, and I’m not gonna play games. Talk to me. And if I say no, it’s no.” 

“Ok.” His eyes were wide, breathing fast. “Can we, um . . .” She didn’t save him this time, just folded her arms and waiting, grinning. “Can we go do it now?” 

“No, I need a break right now.” 

He nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” 

“Let’s see,” she mused. “What else. Oh - come sit down.” He sat next to her on the couch and jumped when she put her hand on his thigh. “Richard, I’ve been afraid to touch you, like hugs or whatever, because I was afraid of sending mixed messages. But I like to touch and hug. So if I do, it doesn’t automatically mean sex, you still have to ask. OK?” _This is weird_ , she thought. _Like talking to a toddler about sex._ She could hear that she had slipped into her teacher voice, but thought that if she could just explain it well enough this might go OK.   

“Um, yeah,” Richard said.  

“Good. That was fun before. Did you like it?” 

“Yes! I mean - yeah. It was great.” He swallowed hard, his eyes wide. “I couldn’t believe you sucked me off like that.” 

“It was fun,” she said. “I like it.” 

“Wow,” he said softly.

She smiled back and squeezed his thigh where her hand rested, but couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach. 

 

The next morning after breakfast, after Christian left the room Richard stammered out an awkward invitation, and Amanda grinned and followed him to his room. “You cleaned it up,” she said as she shut the door. “That’s nice.” 

“Yeah, a little.” She stepped up to him and his hand was under her shirt, on her breast. “Can you suck me off again?” 

“Yeah, we’ll get to that. Here,” she pulled her shirt off and led him to the bed. “If you suck on me, it’ll get me really turned on.”

Oh, God, yeah.” He lowered his head and she winced at his fingers digging in and teeth on her nipple. 

“Richard, easy - they’re attached. Here, let me show you.”  She guided him, hand over hand, holding him back when he was too rough and moaning and writhing as his touch lightened. She was wet and panting when she guided his hand down between her legs. Again, she had to get him to lighten his touch. “Ahh - easy. Richard, that’s a little rough. You’re not fishing for change in a vending machine. Like this -” they lay side by side as she guided his hand through her wet folds, sliding in and out, teasing her clit, until she climaxed. 

She pulled him on top of her and he rutted, taking her hard and gasping against her, crying out as he finished. She had learned from the previous day and nudged him off before he fell asleep. She curled up against him, dozing off, until he awoke 20 minutes later, ready to go again. She tried to kiss on him, but after a few thrusts of his tongue into her mouth he asked again for a blowjob. She had to get him to lighten his grip on her head but it was gratifying to get him off so powerfully.  

 

For the next few days, she felt like she had a big puppy. Richard followed her everywhere, or popped up where ever she was. Christian seemed to make himself scarce so she mostly obliged. She gave up on having him go down on her; she had a new appreciation for Christian, and remembered why she hadn’t liked it before. She liked his enthusiasm and it was fun that he felt different from Christian, but she didn’t like that Richard hardly looked her in the eye. He didn’t really initiate kissing, and when he did kiss her it was all hard thrusting tongue, not really responsive to anything she was doing. She tried to make sure Richard took care of her first, but when he passed out on her or next to her and she was still restless, she went and found Christian and he sorted that out for her. 

 

Christian leaned the gun on the railing and unhooked the rabbits from his belt. It had felt good to get out by himself for a minute. He paused, hand on the doorknob, at the sudden tightness in his chest. He knew what he was hearing before the sound even fully registered. The rhythmic slapping of flesh, the grunts, the moans - goddamit. In the living room, every second he was out of the house?

He stood listening, hand on the door, rabbits in his other hand. He knew they’d been going at it, but it hadn’t been in front of him. He’d been trying to stay out of the way a bit, more for his comfort than theirs. Richard’s breathing was harsh, Amanda’s moans and cries in time to the smack of him against her - Jesus. Did they leave the fucking door open? He glanced around - no. The window was open, right over the couch, probably right over where he was fucking her. 

He was getting hard as he stood there and listened, picturing them, even as he felt his anger grow. What the hell was he supposed to do? Did she intend for him to walk in on them, or did she just not think about it? He and Amanda had never thought much about where they stopped to screw around. 

Fuck it. He slammed open the door and stepped in. 

“Oh shit.” Richard’s voice was shaking. 

“It’s OK.” Amanda said breathlessly. “He’s fine. Don’t stop.” 

_ I’m fine, huh?  _ he thought. He walked through the living room to the kitchen, watching them as he did. She was naked, on her knees, bent over the couch. Richard was behind her, his face white and eyes wide, pounding into her even as he watched Christian cross the room. 

When Christian got to the kitchen he threw the rabbits as hard as he could toward the counter. Three of them slid across and hit the wall. One flew off the counter onto the floor and left a long bloody smear. 

“Is he gonna . . .” 

“He’s fine. It’s fine. God, Richard, don’t stop.” She sounded breathless and the tempo picked up. 

Christian leaned back on the counter, arms crossed, head down. He had only seen them for a few seconds, but it was enough to burn the picture in his mind. His fingers on her hips, digging in, pulling her back on him. Christian was going to look for marks later. The curve of her ass and back in front of him, her breasts bouncing with each jarring thrust. At his glance it didn’t look like she was damp and flushed enough to have come already. 

“Don’t - don’t stop. Oh God -”

No, too much need in her voice. Too harsh, too begging. She was close, though. Christian turned around and leaned forward, hands on the counter, muscles tense. He was fully hard now. 

“Oh, God, yes . . .” Her voice was tighter, growlier. He could imagine what that would feel like, holding her, pounding her, feeling her clench around him, looking down at her ass, watching her take him in over and over. His anger burnt off, replaced by need. To her cries and the sound of their fucking he imagined reaching around and grabbing her tits, full and soft and moving under his hand with every thrust. He knew how wet the folds of her would be when he slipped his hand between her legs . . . 

Richard’s cries changed and the slap of them coming together was slower but harder. Amanda’s cries of  “Yes, there, God,” over Richard’s hoarse yells and Christian heard him coming into her. He was breathing hard at Richard’s gasps, picturing him collapsed on her back, her melted into the couch. 

Christian heard Amanda’s breathless, “Can you keep going?” He straightened up. What? He couldn’t hear Richard’s reply, then her again - “Oh, God. Can you . . . “ She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Ok. Maybe later. Here -” Some kind of movement was going on, but it was over. 

What the hell, Christian thought. If he was going to fuck her, he could at least take care of her. It would have been so easy, just slide his hand through that wet, hot pussy . . . 

It was quiet now from the front room. He took a deep breath. Holy shit. He realized he wasn’t upset about the fact that they had sex - he knew that was going on. He didn’t like that Richard had been selfish, but Amanda was a big girl. She would make sure she got what she wanted. But still, this tight coil in his chest, the tension in his neck - it wasn’t reasonable or logical, but there it was.

Lost in his thoughts, he missed the soft footfalls until she padded naked into the kitchen. He looked up, startled, and couldn’t help looking her up and down, even though he saw her nude every day. 

“Hey,” she said softly. “You OK?” 

“Well, according to you, I’m fucking fine,” he growled. 

She kept coming until she leaned up against him and slid her arms around him. He sighed and hugged her against him, resting his head on hers. 

“You OK?” she asked again against his chest. 

“Yeah, baby.” He rested his hands on her back and slid down to cradle her bare ass. “I’m fine.” He pulled back to look at her, eyebrow raised. “You OK?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You need help with anything?” 

She smiled up at him. “I would like that.” 

“What’s he doing?” Christian jerked his head toward the living room.

“He’s asleep.” 

Christian shook his head and pulled her right up against him again, his arms wrapped around her. He felt her melt as she sighed and snuggled in. 

“Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean for you to have to walk in on that. I’m really trying not to be an asshole about this. I’m just not used to having to think about privacy.” 

“That’s what I figured. You know what, though - if you did get off on people watching, I guess I wouldn’t know about it til now.” 

“No, it was an accident.” 

“That’s OK, baby.” Although, he thought, sometime soon good ol’ Richard was going to walk in on Christian fucking Amanda’s brains out. Or maybe eating her out, touching and tasting her until she was screaming and clawing at him.

He sighed again and ran his hands up and down her bare back and down over her ass and hips as she nuzzled at his shirt. He thought about easing her back enough to slip out of his clothes, or at least his shirt, so he could feel her skin against his.  There was something about this, though, him fully clothed, holding her naked. She felt so vulnerable, and it made him feel powerful and protective. She had been, of course, aware of his erection as soon as she had stepped up against him. Hell, probably as soon as she stepped into the room. She gently moved against him, not grinding or demanding anything, just letting her body respond to his. 

He couldn’t get the image from the living room out of his mind. He could feel it, the feeling of control as he held her hips and watching her flush as he pounded her and made her come. He had taken her from behind lots of times - there was hardly anything they hadn’t tried at this point - but it wasn’t the favorite for either of them. He liked being able to see her face when he slid into her or made her come, and she liked being able to wrap around him and pull him close when the world exploded.  

She stirred in his arms. “I need to go get cleaned up and dressed.” 

“Mm-hmm.” He leaned over and wrapped around her a little more, pulling her closer and tucking her in against him. She moved to step away but he didn’t loosen his hold. 

“Are you going to let me go?” she murmured against his chest. 

“Uh-uh.” 

“Goody.” She put a hand up behind his head, threading her fingers loosely in his hair and stroking the soft skin of his neck. 

He lowered his head, kissing her shoulder and neck before resting his head and pushing his cock back a little against the gentle thrusts of her hips. What he really wanted to do right now was spin her around and push her down on the counter, pull his shorts down enough to free his hard cock and take her. He wanted to watch himself slide into her, feeling her hot and wet around him and her ass slapping against him. He wanted to see the flush rise across her back as he touched her, making her writhe and scream and come as he pinned her against the counter and pounded her. 

“Mmm.” She pushed back against his hands on her ass and forward against his cock. “Are you starting something?” 

“Would you be up for it?” 

“Well, yeah.” She tightened her hold on his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, sweet but a little insistent, tongue teasing against his, opening to him.  

As much as he wanted her right now, holding her naked and warm and the images and sounds of her and Richard buzzing in his mind, he hesitated. He didn’t like this feeling, that anything between them was because of Richard. When Amanda had come to him and started something over the last few days, he hadn’t asked which times she was coming right from Richard, unsatisfied. He had kinda liked it. But now, something about this felt off. 

“How about a little later,” he murmured. 

“Hmm?” She glanced up at him. “Why?”

He couldn’t help shooting a look toward the living room. “I’ll be up for it a little later, hon.” 

He glanced down to see her smile fading. “Ok,” she said. “Let me know, I guess.” 

He felt the pressure of her against him ease as she unwrapped her arms to step out of his embrace. He didn’t loosen but slid his arms further around her, trying to keep ahold of her. She kept pulling against him, though, until he had to let her go. She turned and left the kitchen without another word.   

Fuck. Surely she didn’t think he didn’t want her. He would sort that out later. He leaned on the counter, head down, arms crossed, again visions of Richard and Amanda flashing through his mind. He imagined what else they had done. He had nothing to be jealous about - she had been nothing but open and honest about everything. Who was he to begrudge her some fun? He saw again her fading smile and felt her pull back when he looked toward Richard and told her no. 

He pushed off the counter and crossed the kitchen in long strides, swung around the corner, and bounded up the stairs, sparing a glance at Richard still sprawled asleep on the couch. She was horny, he was hard as a rock, and goddamn if he was going to let his pride get in the way. 

“Hey, baby.” He swung into the room they shared. She was putting down a washcloth and picking through a pile of clothes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was being an ass.” Before she could speak he swept her up and filled her with kisses. He felt a chill or reserve for about half a second before she melted under his onslaught. “Goddamn, baby. That was so hot, watching him fuck you. All I could think of pushing you down on that counter and fucking the hell out of you. I just didn’t want it to be because of him.” 

She gasped under his touches, pulling at his shirt. “I wanted you to. I just kept thinking about you taking me like that.” 

“Oh fuck -” He stripped his clothes and tossed her down on the bed, only he did it right and made her climax, screaming, twice before letting his own pleasure go.    

 

A day or so later Christian came back from an excursion to the music store with a load of accessories, sheet music, another metronome, and a Fender American Stratocaster electric guitar. He had been surprised to find an instrument of this quality at a mall music store - this was easily a thousand dollar guitar. He couldn’t wait to get in there and see what it sounded like.

He paused at the doorway, but all he could hear was murmured voices. He went in to find Amanda and Richard on the couch clothed, her hands around his neck and his at her waist. “Hey, baby,” Amanda greeted him. “We’re having a kissing lesson.” 

“Huh.” He grinned as he saw Richard’s eyes flick to him as he tried to pull away, but Amanda tightened her grip on his neck. He headed up the stairs with his new toys. He dropped off his stuff in the music room and headed back down - suddenly the new fancy guitar could wait. He leaned in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them. Richard shot him a few nervous glances but Amanda didn’t even glance his way.

“Like this,” she said. She cradled Richard’s head and pulled him toward her, meeting his lips, moving on him. Richard’s hands clenched on her waist but he was passive in the kiss, letting her lead, opening his mouth under hers. “Feel that?” she murmured. “Follow what I do.” She tilted her head, teasing her tongue against his, moaning a little as he teased back. “Mmm. That’s nice.” Richard seemed to forget about Christian, moaning and pulling Amanda toward him. “Mm.” Amanda pulled back a little, breathing a little fast, stroking his neck. “Now you’re turn - I’ll follow you.” 

Christian couldn’t believe how hot this was, just watching them kiss. Richard got more assertive, coming after her, his tongue in her mouth, in control. She groaned and tried to pull back, but Richard followed and just kept coming at her, deepening the kiss. 

She gave a little whimper or moan as she moved her hand up from his neck to his head, slid her fingers into his loose, shaggy waves and pulled hard. 

Oh fuck. Christian felt his groin tighten and his jaw dropped as she tightened her grip, pulling Richard’s hair, trying to get him to back off. 

She finally broke the kiss. “Richard,” she said, gasping, “You gotta give me a chance to respond. Could you tell what I was doing?” 

“Uh-uh,” he said roughly. He tried to go in for another kiss, but she had both hands in his hair now, fingers wrapped in tight, holding him back. 

“Here - do that again, but then stop, let me come at you.” She loosened her grip and allowed him forward for another kiss, apparently more to her liking this time. 

Christian didn’t know how or when it happened, because before the plague he hated having his hair messed with, much less it getting him turned on. But when Amanda got ahold of his hair and pulled, when he felt that sharp pinch and felt her hands hot on his head, it got to him. She could push him over the edge just with a hard tug. When he made her lose herself, screaming and clawing and pulling with the strength of her orgasm, or when with a wicked glint in her eye she used her grip to control him, pulling him back or forward to where she wanted him - he could hardly contain himself. Even just watching her do it to Richard had him hard as a rock. 

He focused again on them. Richard was getting more turned on, but she was still working hard to keep him under control, trying to get him to pay attention and give her space to respond. 

“Isn’t that better? It’s a give and take,” she murmured, cradling his face and sucking on his lip before again opening to him. Richard’s tongue was again in her mouth, his hand on her breast, his other hand pulling on her hip. 

“Hey, baby,” Christian called from the doorway.

“Yeah.” She pulled back a little and glanced over. 

“You wanna give him a demonstration?” 

She pulled back further, her hands slipping down from Richard’s neck. Her grin grew and her eyes lit up. “Sure. That might work.” 

Christian pushed off the doorframe and stepped up to her, his eyes never leaving her face. She turned away from Richard toward him as he held out his hand and drew her up to stand in front of him. Christian didn’t look toward Richard but could see his dropped jaw and then his frown from the corner of his eye. He took them half a step around to orient himself and Amanda to Richard as if he were a camera, again without looking at him. 

“Hey, darlin’,” he said softly, reaching up to cradle her face.  

“Hey, you.” She smiled and relaxed against him as he slipped an arm around her and eased her closer. 

He let his smile fade as he searched her face, looking at her as if memorizing her. He lowered his head just a bit, his eyes hooded, letting some tension show in his jaw as he traced slow circles on her jaw and neck with his thumb. “God, baby,” he said, low and rough. “You are so beautiful.” 

She caught her breath, her eyes wide. One little gasp and then two, her lips parted. They had been together long enough that she no longer automatically responded to him turning on the charm, mostly just laughing at him if he tried it to get out of something. Now, though, with Richard as the audience, she let it go and let herself respond, gasping and shaking and turning a delicate pink as if it was their first day together.

He slid his hand around to cradle her head and lowered his mouth to hers, taking his time and moving on her. She moaned as he did exactly what she had been trying to show Richard, teasing, tasting her, then following her lead as she teased him back. He sucked on her lip, let her suck on his tongue, and let her feel his teeth on her full lower lip. She was panting when he pulled back to tease, barely brushing against her while she arched against him as if every butterfly touch was an electric shock. 

Christian did not let himself get lost and never forgot their audience, playing to Richard as if a close-up camera was on them. Amanda may have forgotten, though, with her slight startle at Richard’s voice. “Ok, I got it,” he said, sounding irritated. Christian felt her grin against his mouth but neither of them acknowledged him in the slightest. 

Christian kissed down her neck, stopping to suckle on her earlobe and settle at that spot on her throat as she moaned and clung to him. “Oh, God, baby,” she gasped. “Oh God. Oh fuck.” He had scanned the space before he stepped up to her so he didn’t have to look around to take the half a step sideways and lower her to the couch, still kissing. 

He let himself get a little lost, loosening his awareness of Richard, sinking into her kisses and the feel of her full breast and her nipple pebbled and hard under his hand. She slid her hand into his hair and pulled just a little, just enough to remind him she could. He growled against her, plunging in and taking her mouth before again softening and responding, to remind her what would happen if she did. He kissed into her grin, she captured his answering laugh and pulled back to meet his gaze, eyes shining, before pulling him down to her again. 

“All right. I got it now. Thanks.” They both jumped at Richard’s peeved voice this time. She giggled against him and Christian, without looking up, held up his middle finger in Richard’s general direction. 

She was on her back by now, Christian over her. He pulled back to look at her, stroking her hair and cheek. “Baby,” he murmured. “Can I taste you? Can I go down and lick that sweet pussy, and make you come all over my face?” 

“Oh - God -” She convulsed against him, hand jerking in his hair, as he slid her dress up out of the way and slipped his fingers into her panties, sliding them down. 

“You are so wet for me right now, aren’t you?” He captured her moans with more kisses as his hands ranged over her body. He loved that his words got her going as almost as much as his kisses and touches, and he wanted Richard to see that. 

He spared a glance for the young man as he sat up to strip. Richard had moved away from the couch at some point and was on the recliner, eyes wide, shorts down around his thighs, hand on his dick, jerking off as he watched Amanda and Christian. 

Christian couldn’t help the feral grin he shot at Richard and could have growled at him before swooping down again on Amanda. He kissed down her body, stopping to suckle her breast while she moaned and thrust her hips against him. He slid his hands under her ass, shifting her around and sliding her down until she was stretched out on the couch, arms over her head, one foot on the floor and her thighs spread open before him. He got on his knees between her legs, kissing up her thighs while his fingertips teased that tender skin right at the crease, already slick with her arousal. 

He sensed movement behind him - Richard had moved to a different chair, where he could watch. Christian could hear his panting and the sound of him stroking his slick cock. Amanda was panting as well, short hard breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating as she waited, body tight as a bowstring, for him to put his mouth on her and release her. Closer and closer he kissed, licking and nibbling at her thigh, her body quivering under him, her whimpers like a newborn puppy. She wouldn’t ask or beg now, she would just wait, shaking, until he couldn’t stand it any more. 

“Jesus.” Christian heard Richard’s soft exclamation and the more frenzied pace of him touching himself as he watched. Christian finally settled his mouth on her, groaning, tasting her. It still felt like a gift to him that she not only trusted him but loved it. He looked up to see her breasts moving, her head back and her body flushing as she thrust her hips, fucking herself on his tongue and then his fingers as he tasted all the secret folds and settled on her center. She bucked against him, hands in his hair, thighs squeezing him, her skin hot, and he knew she wouldn’t remember the screams torn from her throat, or putting those fingernail marks on his shoulder as she convulsed and thrashed around him. 

He heard Richard coming on the chair behind him as he felt her aftershocks begin. He slid from between her legs, up to cradle her body and give her the kisses she was blindly and desperately searching for, so she could taste herself on him. As he cradled her, her breathing finally calmed and she looked up at him with shining eyes. 

“More?” he asked softly, sliding his hand down from cradling her face to tickle against her swollen hot pussy. 

“Dude,” Richard called from behind him. “Don’t you get any?” 

“Oh, we’re not done yet.” Christian pressed his cock against her thigh as he slipped a finger inside her. She cried out and thrust against him but he waited, inside her but still, until she was begging.  

“Oh please, oh please, oh fuck - Christian -” He slipped two fingers inside, hot, wet, so tight. He closed his eyes and rested his head against hers, focused on her reaction, pressing, pulling back - there it was. The spasms against his hand hadn’t really stopped from the first climax, but now they built again, the rhythmic pressure a little harder as he grazed her G-spot. He grit his teeth and eased out, moving his body over hers. She already had her legs up, pulling him into her, and he groaned and let himself collapse on her as she swallowed him up. 

Finally, after staying so aware and being in control of both Amanda and Richard’s reaction, he let it go. Her arms and legs and cunt clenching around him, her cries against his neck, the feel of her soft belly and thighs and breasts jarring under him, the scent of her sweat and sex - he felt a roar building in him as he took her, hard and fast and mean. Her teeth nipped his neck, her hand in his hair - he let everything go, pouring all the rage and lust and love and fear and jealousy and pride into her. 

She was coming around him now, crying out and thrusting her hips up so he could fuck right through her climax. He met her and the world exploded around them. 

 

Amanda felt one last aftershock hit, long minutes after Christian finally collapsed on her. “Oh my God, baby,” she murmured against his neck. He groaned and started to shift, but she tightened her grip to let him know she was comfortable and could breathe and he could stay right where he was, nestled in her arms. 

She became conscious of raspy breathing, of someone else in the room. She lifted her head to look over Christian and saw Richard in the wingback chair, right where he could watch the whole thing, his shorts next to him on the floor, his hand on his limp cock. She met his eye for a moment before cuddling back down with Christian. 

Richard cleared his throat. “I thought that was supposed to be a kissing demonstration.” 

Christian chuckled and she could feel the vibration against her before he slid next to her, scooting her up next to him on the couch. “That’s what happens when you do it right.” He looked down at her, eyes sparkling, with half a grin. “Hey, darlin’. You OK?” 

“Oh, yeah. That was wonderful.” She pulled him down for a kiss, working around to his cheek, and whispered in his ear, “You’re awfully pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” 

“You bet.”

She glanced over at Richard, rooting around for his shorts and sliding them on. He had watched them and whacked off, but she couldn’t blame him - they had started it right in front of him. She felt like she should have some kind of reaction, but couldn’t decide what it should be. 

“That was really hot,” Richard said. “Is it always like that?” 

“Well, let’s see,” said Christian, a grin in his voice. “Baby, did you come two or three times?”

“I think three. That was amazing.” Amanda smiled up at him. 

“Yeah, that’s about how that goes.” He pulled her in close with a kiss. The look he threw at Richard was supposed to be a grin, but reminded her of a wolf with bared teeth. 

“Wow.” Richard shook his head, stroking his cock through his shorts. 

I guess we’ll get used to it, she thought, but the awkwardness of the situation right now was a bit much. “I’m gonna get get cleaned up,” she murmured, and Christian gave her another kiss and let her up to go to the shower, then grabbed their clothes and headed upstairs, as eager to get out of there as she was.  


	33. Chapter 33 - You blew it

 

Chapter 33

“Hey, Amanda.” 

“Hey.”  Amanda looked up from the salad of wild greens she was cleaning when Richard popped up in the kitchen doorway. Her wildcrafting had been successful - some plants were familiar like purslane and dandelion, but she had learned about chickweed and the tender tips of nettles as well.

“Um, can we go upstairs? You can suck me off.” His grin was wide and sure. His uncertainty and hesitancy from the first few weeks was gone. 

She felt a flash of anger. She was supposed to drop everything every time he wanted . . . 

“No.” She pulled a woody stem out of a branch of wood sorrel with a little more force than needed. 

Richard had already turned to start up the steps but stopped, his grin fading. “What?” 

“No.” Usually she softened it, saying ‘maybe later’ or otherwise qualifying her answer if she wasn’t interested, but she was tired of it. The ‘kissing lesson’ hadn’t helped, and even after watching Christian drive her insane Richard was still focused only on what he wanted, hardly ever on her pleasure. He was getting rougher, too, as he got more confident. He had been apologetic about the bruise he had left on her shoulder. but hadn’t backed off the next time they got together. 

“What do you mean, no?” he asked. 

“What the fuck do you think I mean? No. I don’t want to.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Well, um, maybe later?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“That’s not fair.” Amanda looked up at the edge in his voice. All traces of good humor were gone and his face had settled into hard lines. “You fucked Chris twice yesterday, and it’s been two days for me.”

“Are you kidding me?” She felt dizzy for a second, the blood draining from her face, then a rush of anger that drowned out a little trickle of fear. “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing, Richard. You aren’t taking turns.”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” he protested. He pushed off the doorway and took a step closer. “But - why not?” 

“Because -”  _ you suck, _ she thought, but stopped herself from saying it out loud. Her heart pounded and sweat was prickling her skin. Her hands felt cold, but instead of everything going far away and distant like it used to she saw with crystal sharp clarity. Richard’s hands were clenched, his jaw set and his dimple gone. A bead of sweat traced his temple. He was blocking the doorway to the living room, and could probably get to her before she made it out the other door to the porch.   _ Where is Christian? _   she thought. She could yell for him but she was almost sure he wasn’t in the house, and it might make Richard come after her. 

Her assessment seemed to only take an instant and he was still standing there, his face hard and mean, actually waiting for an answer.  

Amanda stepped away from the center island and put her hand behind her on the drawer with Christian’s chef knives. “Because Christian takes his time, he cares about me. I enjoy it. You pound me like I’m a fleshlight. I’ve tried to tell y--”

“That’s bullshit.” He started toward her, two long steps before she could yank the drawer open and reach inside.  

_ Mistake, that was a mistake, _ she thought, even as she grabbed a knife and held it toward him, blade glinting.  _ Don’t explain, don’t try to reason - _ “Leave me the fuck alone, Richard. Back off.”

He stopped short and the surprise on his face was almost comical, if it hadn’t been her life at stake. He slowly put his hands up. “I’m not doing anything,” he said. “Amanda, I just want to talk about it.” Even as he spoke she saw his attention dart from her to the knife to the doorway, assessing, trying to figure out how to get to her. “What the hell are you doing? I’m not going to hurt you.” His fake smile faded as his slid half a step closer.  

“I swear to God, you come closer I will fuck you up.” Her voice shook but her hand was steady, blade pointed at him, hand turned in to protect her wrist, her stance balanced. Christian hadn’t specifically taught her self-defense with a knife, but for fun he had choreographed some hand-to-hand and knife fights for their Michael-and-Vicki spy game and it all came rushing back. “And if you touch me, Christian will flat out kill you.”  

That finally got his attention. “What the fuck, Amanda?” His voice was indignant, but he stopped his advance. “What the hell is wrong with you? We’re just talking.” 

“Get away from me. Get out.” She shifted her weight, left hand up to protect her face, right hand with the knife aimed steadily at his throat. 

“Stupid bitch.” He finally turned and left, slamming the back door behind him. 

 

She somehow made it to the living room and her hands shook as she grabbed the walkie off the front table.  “Christian, come . . . come back please.”  

A crackle, and then, “Sure - what’s wrong, darlin’?” But she had already dropped the radio to the ground and stood shaking, arms wrapped around herself. She heard the walkie talkie squawk a few more times as Christian tried to get ahold of her but couldn’t make herself bend down to pick it up. 

When Christian’s warm arms wrapped around her a few minutes later, she startled before melting into him.  She hadn’t even registered the sound of his pounding footsteps on the porch or the slam of the door back against the wall. 

“Are you OK? What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“He came after me. Richard came after me.” Her voice was shaking and she could feel her heart pounding again, the ice in her veins thawing now that Christian was there. 

“That son of a - did he hurt you?” He eased her back just a bit and looked her up and down before pulling her close again. He ran his hand down her arm, cradling her hand in his. “Amanda, let me have this. It’s OK, sweetheart. Let go.” She looked down to see that he was trying to ease the knife out of white-knuckled fist. 

“Oh. I didn’t know I was still holding it.” She loosened her grip and he slipped it away. “No, he didn’t hurt me. I - I got the knife before he got to me.” 

“That’s my girl. Where is he?” His voice was low and rough and hard, almost unrecognizable. 

“I don’t  - I don’t know. He called me a stupid bitch and went out the back.” 

“I will kill the son of a bitch.” He eased them both to the couch and pulled her closer as her shivers intensified. “What happened?” 

She took a deep breath, then another. Her pulse was still racing but the numbness and chill was easing. As she told Christian what had happened she could feel his muscles tighten around her. “He was coming after me,” she said again. “He wasn’t going to stop.” 

“I will fucking kill him.” 

“We have to leave.” Amanda sat up, pulling away from Christian’s arms to look at him. “I can’t stay here. I don’t want him near me.”   

“I know.” 

“Goddamnit. I knew better.” Christian tried to pull her close again as a shudder shook her but she pulled away. “I knew it. Why did I stay?” 

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” 

“I knew this would happen. I kept trying to convince myself it was OK, he didn’t mean it, he would learn, he  . . . he could change. I could tell, though.” 

“What are you talking about? This wasn’t your fault.” 

“I know that, but - I kept thinking, ‘It’s not that bad.’”  Her tears of anger were at herself as much as at Richard. “I should have trusted myself, that first day. I so wanted it to work out. God fucking dammit. I said I wouldn’t live this way!” She turned to him, her eyes wide. “We have to leave.” 

“I know. Right after I beat the fucking shit out of him.”   

“I’m sorry - the electricity, and your guitar, and you finally had a guy to hang around with, but I can’t -” 

“Hey!” he snarled. She stopped, startled. His face was hard, his jaw set, and his eyes glittered with anger. She would have been afraid of him like this when they first met. He pulled her around to face him. “You think I give a fuck about any of that?” he growled. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’ll leave.”   

She let loose a long breath. If he had argued or tried to talk her out of it she would have left without him, but wasn’t sure she would have bothered going on after that. “Ok,” she said. 

“Now, you go get your stuff together.” His voice was still a growl but gentled, like a mama bear with her cub. “I’m gonna go talk to our boy.” 

 

Christian watched her go up the stairs and headed out the back. White hot fury pounded through his veins. He knew she had stayed because of him. She had told him she was afraid and would have left if not for him. Christian thought she meant she was safe with him there, but now he saw she stayed for his benefit, so he could have company and fucking electricity. 

When Christian stepped into the yard he saw Richard coming out of the garage with a duffle slung over his shoulder, headed toward the driveway. “Richard!” Richard stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face him.  “Going somewhere, son?”

“Um, no, just . . .” 

“I thought you and I had an understanding. And now I have to kill you.” Richard backed up a step, then another, as Christian advanced toward him across the yard. 

“No - no!” Richard eyes were wide and his face pale. “You said don’t touch her. Don’t lay an unwanted hand on her. I didn’t touch her! She pulled a knife on me for no reason. I didn’t do anything. She’s crazy.” 

“Wrong move, son.” Christian had angled his approach to back Richard up against the wall of the garage and with one more step Richard was blocked in. Christian stood a few feet away, arms at his sides, head lowered, menacing and glowering. When he left Amanda he thought only of hurting Richard, but though he still felt the white-hot rage, logic had kicked back in. He wasn’t sure yet what he was going to do. Even a minor injury could kill these days, and Christian did not want to kill the only other person left alive. Nor did he want to have to stay and nurse him back to health. His only plan now was to scare the shit out of Richard and keep Amanda safe. 

“I didn’t do anything.” Richard was babbling. “I didn’t touch her. I just was talking, and she pulled a knife. She could’ve hurt me.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Christian took a step closer and Richard flinched, cowering down against the garage.  _ One punch won’t do that much damage _ , Christian thought.    
“She told you no. You came at her. She pulled a knife to keep you away.” 

“No, I wasn’t going to, it’s not fa--”

Another half step and Christian had the front of Richard’s shirt twisted in his fist and shoved him back against the garage. Not as hard as he could, just a little, but enough to see his head bounce against the siding very satisfactorily.  “I am trying so goddamn hard not the beat the fucking shit out of you,” he growled, his voice as low and mean as he could make it. “You are not making it easy, you little jackass pissant.” 

“But I didn’t --” 

Christian jerked him forward and slammed him back again, just a little harder. “Shut. The fuck. Up.  What in the hell is wrong with you?” He leaned closer, a spare inch between them. “You tell me again you didn’t do anything, and I will have to punch you right in your fucking face.”  

Richard was shaking, his face white, sweat beaded on his forehead. He opened his mouth, but closed it without a word and swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving Christian. 

“That’s better.” Christian took a step back, then released him. Richard sagged against the wall, gasping for breath. “What a fucking dumb ass you are. She was ready to go along with this if you had been decent to her.” 

“What - what are you going to do?” Richard asked, his voice quavering. 

“Oh, we’re leaving. She’s packing up and we are out of here. She is not gonna stay where she isn’t safe.”      

“What?  Wait - how long? Where are you going?” 

“What the fuck do you mean how long? We aren’t coming back. We are gone, Richard. You blew it.”  

“No - no. you can’t leave me alone. You can’t - I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I didn’t mean it. Chris, you can’t - I can’t be alone again.” 

“Fuck you. We’ll be gone in an hour. Don’t you go near Amanda.”  Christian turned on his heel and headed toward the house. He was still furious - at Richard, at himself for putting her in this position, and a little bit at Amanda. He was mad, too, because he could feel the fear ready to bloom if he stopped to consider what it would be like for Richard when they drove away. What if it were him left standing in the yard, knowing he would never see another person? 

If he suggested to Amanda that they stay, work it out, give Richard another chance - a wave of hot and cold washed over him, leaving a prickle of clammy sweat. He suspected that the next thing that would happen would be Amanda taking off without another word, leaving him and Richard to their brotherhood. If Christian didn’t get this, if he didn’t understand what it would be like for Amanda to stay with someone who saw her and treated her the way Richard did, then Amanda would know she couldn’t trust Christian any more than she could Richard.     


Amanda jumped at the footsteps in the doorway, but relaxed at the sight of Christian. “Did you see him?” she asked. 

“Yeah. I told him we’re leaving.” 

“What did he say?” 

Christian scoffed. “Wanted to know when we’re coming back. Fucking jackass. I told him we’re not, he blew it.”  

“Ok.” She turned and picked at another shirt. “Did you hit him?” 

“Naw. I wanted to, but I don’t want us to have to stay and make sure he’s gonna live.” 

“Ok,” she said again. She sighed and dropped the clothes. “Christian, I don’t need any of this shit. Can we just go?” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” As he stepped up to her she turned and wrapped around him, her face buried in his neck as his hands smoothed her back. “Let me just get a few things and we’ll go,” he murmured.  

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“No.” He pulled back to look at her. “You do not fucking say that to me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen when we first got here, and I’m sorry you had to put up with this. OK?” 

“Yeah.” She let out a long ragged breath. “It’s going to be harder for him to be alone now. I’m sorry about that, but I can’t -” 

“I know. You’re right, but I don’t know what to do about that. He made his bed.” 

“What if . . .” She took a breath. “What if we left one of the dogs?”

She was relieved at his crooked smile.  “I was thinkin’ about that,” he said, “but I was afraid to say anything. They’re your dogs. But I was thinking about if it was me, standing there while everyone else drove away . . .”   

“Sweetie,” she said, “Is it OK if we leave Cody?” 

There was a half-second pause, and then he said gruffly, “Sure. That makes sense. You’ve had Jack since before.” 

Amanda hugged him tight. “Thank you,” she whispered. Cody had very much become Christian’s buddy and she knew it would be hard for him, but she couldn’t face losing Jack. 

“Alright. Let me go throw some music and tools in the truck and we’ll go.” 

Amanda heard him rummage in the music room and then head down the stairs as she finished packing. All she really needed was the two novels she was currently reading and enough clothes for two or three days. She heard footsteps approaching and turned.  “Christian, I -” 

Richard stood in the doorway, face pale and eyes red. “You can’t go,” he said, his voice rough. 

Amanda dropped her book and backed up to the center of the room. “Where’s Christian?” 

“He’s at the truck. He’ll be right in. Amanda, I’m not going to do anything. I didn’t do anything. Why are you leaving?” 

“Please move.” She chanced a quick glance around, but nothing was in reach that would help her. As in the kitchen, everything seemed bright and sharp and she could feel her heart pounding, fast but steady. Richard took one step toward her. “Christian!” she yelled. 

“He’s outside. Come on, Amanda. This is stupid. I’ll - I’ll do whatever you want. I promise.” He swallowed hard. “You can’t leave me alone again.” 

“We’re going to leave you Cody. You won’t be alone.” 

“No, you have to listen to me -” He took two long steps and was on her. She could see the pores in his skin as he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. She couldn’t make out his words but could feel his spittle on her face and the pressure of his hand wrapped around her arm. She was frozen for a moment as his fingers dug into her arm and his face loomed over hers. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his other hand come up as if in slow motion toward her throat. 

Without thinking she followed his lead and continued where he pulled her, throwing him off balance as she leaned into him. With her free hand she struck at his face with her palm and fist. She felt two or three jarring blows against her hand before his grasp loosened enough for her to pivot her arm behind his and push his elbow joint the wrong way. 

He screamed as she pushed down - somehow she was behind him, knee on his shoulder as she pulled up on his arm and then he was down, flat on the ground. She pushed off of him and jumped back, out of reach.  

It was over in moments. He lay on the floor, groaning. He turned his face toward her, eyes closed, blood dripping from his nose. A second later there was a pounding on the stairs and Christian was at the doorway. 

“What the fuck -” 

“He did it again,” Amanda said. “He grabbed me. I took him down, I guess. I don’t even know how.”  Her voice was shaking and her hands prickled with adrenalin but she felt eerily calm.  

“Goddamn son of a bitch, you fucker -” With a running, cursing commentary and his face grim, Christian kicked out of reach anything Richard might grab, checked his pulse, and flicked up one eyelid. When Richard winced and pulled back, Christian stood up and turned to Amanda. “Let’s get you outa here and I’ll come back and check on him. You got everything?” 

A little dazed, she glanced around and grabbed the bag she was packing, snatched up the book and dropped it in. “Yeah, this is fine.” 

He led her around Richard and out of the house to the truck. “I cannot believe that stupid son of a bitch. Now, are you OK?” His gaze was intense and searching. 

“Yes. He was saying we couldn’t leave, and then he grabbed my arm. The next thing I know I’ve got him in a shoulder lock and he’s on the ground.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t even really remember.” 

“Oh my God. That’s my girl.” Then she was wrapped in his arms and she felt the shudder of his long, ragged breath. “I don’t even know how he got past me. I was trying to keep an eye on him while I got my stuff.” 

“He waited for his chance.” She was starting to shake from the reaction. “That’s why we have to leave, no matter what he says. He will keep doing that.” 

“I know,” he said gruffly. “I get it.” He took a deep breath. “Now, I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, drive you a few blocks away. Then I’ll come back and finish up, make sure he’s OK I guess, and get my stuff. Then I’ll come back to you and we’ll head out of town.” He lowered his head and held her gaze. “That sound OK?” 

“Yes, that’s fine.” She hesitated.  “Cody?” 

“Fuck. What do you think?” 

“I don’t - I’m worried because he’s kind of crazy. Will Cody be OK? But all alone -” she hesitated. “Christian, will you - will you decide? When you come back, see if you think he’d be OK with Cody. I don’t want to leave him alone, but if he can’t take care of him -” 

“Yeah. I got it. We’ll see.” Then again, she was wrapped up in his arms, held so tight she could barely breathe. “That goddamn fucking son of a bitch,” he growled against her neck and then he was kissing her, hard and desperate, his hands cradling her face. “You’re OK?” he murmured against her mouth between kisses. 

“Yeah, baby, I promise.” She pulled back to see him. “And you thought I was crazy to want to learn to fight.” 

“Goddamn, you took him down. That’s my girl!” 

 

He whistled up the dogs and drove them all for several minutes to another neighborhood, watching to make sure Richard didn’t follow and stopping on a street that was unfamiliar and that they had not been on with Richard.  

“Alright,” he said. “You’ll be OK here while I go back and finish up this mess.” 

“That sounds like you are going to kill him.” 

He gave his crooked grin. “Naw, the target gets out of this one alive.”

Amanda cuddled and hugged on Cody in case Christian decided he could leave him. After they drove off she piled blankets on a bed and cuddled up with Jack. The chills and shaking hit again as she ran through the events of the day, until finally the reaction ran its course and she lay curled up, warm, limp and exhausted. 

“It  _ wasn’t _ my fault,” she murmured to Jack. “We wouldn’t have stayed by ourselves, but we weren’t by ourselves, were we? No, we weren’t. We had Christian.” Jack licked her face. “That’s right. He was right there. It was worth a shot, right?” She cradled Jack’s face, scritching his neck. “And I got to fight for real! I did it, buddy!” 

 

She was dozing an hour or two later when Christian stepped into the room. “There you are,” he said. 

She sat up groggily. “Cody?” 

“I left him.” 

She sighed. “Ok.” 

“He’ll be OK, darlin’. He’ll take good care of him.” Christian shoved back the covers and crawled in next to her, wrapping her up in his arms. She sank into him as he held her tight. He murmured something she couldn’t hear and she pulled back. 

“What, sweetie?” she asked. 

“I am so sorry, Amanda,” he said gruffly against her neck and she felt the shudder of his long breath and then the hitch of a sob or choke against her. 

“Hey.” She pulled back to see him and cradled his face between her hands. His eyes were bright and she could feel a tremor in his hands on her back. “Baby, I’m fine. It’s all good.”  

He swallowed hard and shook his head. “If he had hurt you, if I let him . . .” 

“But he - no, Chris.” She stroked his face. “I was thinking about this. I wouldn’t have stayed by myself, but I wasn’t by myself. You were there. I was OK. We had to give it a chance, right? We couldn’t have lived with ourselves just driving away.” 

“Yeah.”

“I can barely live with it now, but he’s too crazy. I can’t stay.” 

“I know.” 

“And you know what?” She pulled back further, her smile widening. 

He gave a quick swipe to his eyes and grinned a little in response. “What, darlin’?” 

“I did it! I took care of myself. I fought him off.” She pounced on him, rolling him to his back. “That feels so good. I still can’t believe it.” 

“Yep.” He took another deep breath. “You did it. That’s my girl.”  

 

It took several more minutes of holding her tight before Christian’s heart started to calm and he felt he could breathe again. He ran his hands down over her back and ass and up into her hair. He breathed in her scent and felt her warmth seep into his bones as she melted into him. He tried to just sink into all the sensations of being with Amanda. He couldn’t let his thoughts go to the image of Richard holding tight to Cody and running after his truck, begging him not to leave, or of Amanda beaten or raped.   

“Was he hurt?” Amanda murmured.

“A bloody nose and a wrenched shoulder. It wasn’t swelling at all, though, and he could move it. He’ll be OK.”   
“What did he say?”  

“He just kept saying, ‘You can’t leave.’” Christian said. “He would say he wouldn’t do it again, then say he didn’t do anything. He’s a fucking mess.” 

She stirred in his arms. “Fuck. I just can’t -”

“No.” Christian pulled back and cradled her face. “There’s nothing else we can do, darlin’. He still doesn’t really think he did anything. You aren’t safe there, no matter what we do.” 

  
Neither wanted to dally once they had calmed down and collected themselves. Christian headed straight for Atlanta, watching the rearview until they were well out of town. The dogs usually dozed on beds in the back seat while they traveled but this time Amanda had Jack up on her lap, petting on him. 

“Look how gray he is. He’s getting old,” she said, stroking the dog’s head. 

“Yep. He’s sure been a good old dog.” 

“Cody too. I’ll miss him. I feel better, though, leaving him with Richard. I hope he takes care of him.” 

“He will,” Christian promised. “I’m sure he will.”   


	34. Chapter 34 - Do you remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been working toward this chapter for a really long time.

Chapter 34

 

After they left Charlotte they didn’t talk much about Richard or what had happened, but had long discussions about whether to use their time to search for others. If Richard had survived others might have as well, but the odds of someone still being alive after this long were slim. Amanda was fine with just the two of them, but Christian couldn’t stand the thought of others out there alone. He spent time rigging how to set off the now-defective fireworks from a distance and set up battery systems with powerful lights. Now that they were looking again they found some evidence of others after the plague such as ransacked stores or camps out in the open, but everything was years old, decayed and weathered.  

Of course Christian tackled putting in a solar power system at Laurel Court as soon as they got back. He rigged more solar lights for inside the house, running wires from the small panels through windows, and it was convenient to not have to have candles or lanterns burning so much. He never managed to get a system with batteries like Richard had to work but it kept him happily tinkering for most of two summers.  

The sixth summer together they never got back to Cincinnati. They left Atlanta in the spring and headed west, through Texas to Oklahoma. Christian showed Amanda all his old stomping grounds, although the desolation and decay was hard to take. His parents’ ranch was still mostly intact, but the roof had fallen in on his last childhood home and the interior was destroyed with flora and weathering. 

They finally lost Jack to old age. He had been almost blind and deaf for a while and then for a few weeks couldn’t walk and needed to be carried, but he didn’t seem to be in pain and neither of them could bring themselves to kill him and put him out of his misery. Finally they woke one morning to find him cold and stiff between them on the big bed at Laurel Court, where he had been sleeping for months.  

Amanda cried and stayed in bed for days, and Christian was more determined than ever to find another dog. After she was over her grief and back to herself, he started going off for several days or a week at a time to neighboring cities, searching. When he found signs of dogs in Akron up in northern Ohio Amanda moved up with him, setting up a household so he could spend his days chasing them down. It turned out to be three good-sized mutts. Two of them never let him near, but one finally was lured in by treats and got used to him. He was thrilled when he caught her, a young lab/German shepherd mix he named Wayha, after his wolf hybrid. She settled in well at Laurel Court; her only problem was getting fat from the amount of scraps and treats Christian gave her.   

 

It was late afternoon when Amanda stepped back to admire her work. The mural she was making on the back of the house at Laurel Court with big chunks of tile was about twelve by eighteen feet. She didn’t have a pattern in mind, just plastering the ceramic pieces wherever they seemed to fit, but the blue stripe through the middle was starting to look like a river. She slapped on some ceramic adhesive and threw one more piece on, then headed into the house. 

She grinned and hurried to wash up when she heard Christian’s truck. Ever since he had spent the time away looking for a dog, he and Wayha took off every few months for a week or so. Christian and Amanda both kept careful track of the days and he was always back before he said he would be, so she wouldn’t worry. 

“Hey, honey!” She ran to meet him and he caught her in a hug. After years of always being together, a few days apart made it even more fun to get back together. 

“Hi, sugar.” He swept her up for kisses. He admired her artwork, enjoyed the meal she made, and they relaxed in the patio loveseat watching the stars come out with Wayha in her favorite position, sprawled across their laps.  

Christian was quiet after Amanda’s chatter petered out. She was curious about his trip, but they had all the time in the world to catch up. He ran his thumb in circles on her palm where she held his hand.  

“I saw Richard,” he said abruptly. 

“What? Where?” 

“I ran down to Charlotte.” 

“Oh.” She was quiet, her hand stilled on his. “How is Cody?” 

“Fine. More spoiled than Wehya.” The dog looked up and thumped her tail at her name. 

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” she said. Christian chuckled and relaxed back against the  seat.   _ Ah, _ she thought.  _ He probably thought I’d be mad.  _

“How long has it been since we were there?” she asked. 

“This is the third summer, isn’t it?” 

“Is this your first time back to see him?” 

“Well, yeah, darlin’. If I’da gone sooner I’d’ve told you.” 

They sat in companionable silence, watching the fireflies light up the yard in the growing dusk. 

“Ok, fine!” Amanda said finally. “How is he?” 

He laughed and slipped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “He - kinda lost it. He thinks there are people living in the houses around him, spying on him. He showed me all these notes, tracking where they were. It was really bad.”  

“That’s too bad.” She hesitated. “Did he ask about me?” 

“Well, no. Because he thinks you’re down there. You sneak into his house at night and move stuff around, apparently.” 

“Oh no. The poor guy.” 

“He’s not -  unhappy. Just crazy.” He looked sideways at her. “You ain’t mad?” 

“About you going down there? No. As long as I don’t have to see him. I hope he’s OK.”

 

The grass was still damp from morning dew when Amanda dropped down from the apple tree. She winced and massaged her knee before gathering up the apples she had shaken loose. The little orchard she had started the first and second summer at Laurel Court was now nine or ten years old, and she had six apple trees, a few plum and apricot, more cherry trees than she could count, and one lone peach that had not yet succumbed to the Ohio winter, although it didn’t bear fruit. 

Her knee was jarred from the jump from the tree and she limped a step or two before it eased. A bad bike accident had smashed it up a year ago - two years? She couldn’t remember, and it didn’t matter. She had been laid up for a while, a month or so maybe, Christian worried and waiting on her hand and foot. She was grateful to get her mobility back, but it still hurt if she did something stupid. 

They had been more worried about Christian’s burn. A campfire had collapsed and laid a burning log across his arm, burning through the skin in a long streak before they could get it off. She still got chills when she thought about how sick he had been and in how much pain. By some miracle they had warded off infection and he had recovered, a long silver scar puckering his arm. 

_ We’ve been pretty lucky _ , she thought.  _ It could have been so much worse. _

She dropped the basket of apples in the kitchen and found Christian on the daybed in the living room. “Hi, baby. Can I brush out your hair?” 

“Sure.” He turned sideways and pulled the hair tie out, shaking it loose. She sat behind him and first ran her hands through it, lightly scratching his scalp the way he liked before picking up the brush from the table. 

“What are you working on?” She smoothed the waves with her hands after each stroke. 

“Mmmm. That feels good.” He held up the manual he was paging through. “Car repair. The van is dead - I think it’s the transmission, but nothin’ I can do about it. I found a diesel pickup truck - the fuel line’s rusted through a little worse than usual, but I think I can fix it.” 

“That’s great. I can’t believe you’ve kept something running this long.” 

“I can’t either. Cars’ll last, but the gas should all be bad by now. Diesel lasts longer, I guess.” He sighed. “Won’t be much longer, though. The diesels are harder to find and now they’re starting to wear out, too.” 

“That sucks.” His hair was getting smoother and shinier with her brushing and she picked it up and let it cascade through her hands. He asked her to cut it once in a while and it stayed just below his shoulders. Amanda had let hers grow and it was clear down her back, up in a long braid right now. 

“Yeah. We’re gonna be stuck soon.  We’ll have to decide where we want to be.” He closed the book and leaned back against her. 

“Shit. I love it here - we have it set up so nice. I don’t want to deal with Ohio winters, though.” 

“I know.” 

“Oh - guess what. You have some gray hair,” she said.   

“Really?”

“Yep.” She separated through the strands. “Some hiding under here. You match me finally.”  She gathered it up to put back in the ponytail. 

“You can leave it down.”  

“Oh, goody.” She grinned and swept it aside to kiss his neck. Leaving it down usually meant they were going to make love. She leaned against his back and wrapped her arms around him. “Getting your first gray hair. How old are you?” 

“Let’s see - forty eight, I guess? Forty eight or forty nine.”

“So that’s nine or ten years, since we met? That makes me fifty. That’s crazy.”  

“You’re fifty?” He turned around to look at her. “Wow.” 

“What?” 

“You look good for fifty. Come here.” She settled into his arms against his chest and he stroked her hair. “I like the silver,” he murmured. He followed the strands down through her hair. 

“Nine years - is that right?” She stopped to count. “Twelve, then, since. My kids would have been - oh my God, 23 and 26. All grown up.” 

“I can’t believe it’s been that long.” 

“I know.” She looked up into his blue eyes, just as intense and warm but with a lot more lines around them, and he had some silver at the temple, too, she saw now. “I hate to leave Laurel Court, but I’m nervous about trying to tough out the winters. I think when we head to Atlanta in the fall we should plan on staying. What do you think?” 

They decided that is what needed to happen. If Christian could get two vehicles going they would drive separately and load up as many supplies as they could, and hit every camping store and grocery on the way down to stock up. Amanda said, “I’ll miss it, but at least we have a few more months before we leave.”  

“Oh - I wanted to show you something,” he said. She sat up and he picked up his guitar and a notebook from the end table. “I was trying to remember this one song, so I went back to look. Do you remember this?” He checked the notebook again while he adjusted his guitar and then started playing. 

“Oh my God. That’s  _ Broken.  _ That’s the first new song you played for me. It makes me cry every time.” 

“Here’s the first one I wrote about you.” He grinned and started playing  _ Tornado _ and she sang alone with the chorus. 

“I love that one. Oh - do you have the seahorse song?” 

“Fuck yeah I have the seahorse song.” He picked up the tempo and belted it out. 

“That is so fun. I bet people would never guess it’s about sex toys.”  

“That wants electric. I want to rock it out.” He flipped to another page. “There’s a lot of shit, but there’s 30 or 40 good songs in here.” He shook his head. “I wish I coulda done something with them.”  

“I know.” She squeezed his arm. “What else? This is great.” He worked his way through many of their favorites. “This is like a diary or documentary. You can sort of see where we were.” 

“It was at about six years, wasn’t it? About here.” He flipped open another notebook. “It starts getting a little less depressing.”  He started picking through another song. 

“After Richard, when we got back from DC that first time. Things shifted.” She scooted around behind him on the daybed, scooping his hair out of the way and kissing on his neck again. His hands stilled on his guitar. “Your hair is down.” 

“Mmm. Yes, ma’am.” 

She nibbled on his earlobe.“Do you want to stay here or go upstairs?”  

He put the guitar aside. “This is just fine.” He tilted his head to let her trail kisses down his neck. When she had worked her way back beside him she lay back on the daybed and he followed her down, laying beside her. She looked up at him as he stroked her hair and brushed his fingers over her face. He smiled at her. “Wow.” 

“What?” She reached down and pulled up on his T-shirt. 

“You look damn good for fifty.” 

She laughed. “Hey, I look damn good for any age.” 

“Yes you do.”   He sat up and pulled off his shirt. 

“Sunscreen and healthy living, I guess. We move around all day and all we eat lately is vegetables. Mmm.” As he lay back down she ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulders. He pulled her V-neck shirt down out of the way and kissed on her neck. “Oh God. I’m so glad you work out. I love these broad shoulders.”  

He propped up on one elbow and grinned at her. “Yeah, I never would have guessed.” He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and her breath caught in anticipation as he leaned closer and closer, finally meeting her lips and moving against her with a gentle nibble and tasting and sucking, teasing with his tongue and drawing hers out until she was whimpering and grabbing at his hair, gasping and trying to pull him closer and moving her body against his. She realized he was grinning as he kissed her and pulled back to look at him. 

“Goddammit.” She was breathing hard and could feel that her face was flushed. 

He laughed and pulled her close for a hug. “You are somethin’ else.”

“I can’t believe you can still do that to me.” She pretended to pout but he captured her lower lip, sucking on it and tasting the sensitive inner lip with his tongue, leaving her gasping again. 

“Me neither, darlin’. I think you get more turned on now than when we were first together.” 

“Just as long as you follow through, we’re good.” She ran her hands through his hair and swept it around to one side so it could tickle her skin and pulled him down for more kisses, opening her mouth to him and pulling him deeper until he was breathing as hard as she was. 

He tugged on her shirt and they separated long enough for him to slide both of them out of their clothes and then he was kissing her again, his body against hers. He ran his hand down over her, her breast and belly and hip, down to tickle her inner thigh. She spread her legs and shifted under him, wrapping around him and thrusting her hips against his. 

“Already?” he asked, bracing his arms next to her head.

“Yes!” 

She was so wet just from his kisses, as always, and he braced himself so he could watch her face as his body slid into hers. Her head went back, her breathing changed, and she moaned and started moving with him and he could see the flush start to rise. She pulled him down to her - she liked to feel his weight and have her face buried in his neck, feeling and tasting and smelling him.  Every move filled her up and was so satisfying to the core, and she clung to him when he groaned and shuddered and collapsed on her.  

It was a warm enough day that she didn’t need to reach for a blanket so she just held him, stroking his hair and putting her arms around his shoulders, feeling his pounding heart gradually calm against hers. He groaned and shifted a little, nuzzling her neck with a deep sigh. “That’s still my favorite part,” she whispered against his hair. 

“Mmm. Me too.” He turned on his side facing her. “Well, one of my three favorites. ” He grinned as his trailed his hand up and down her body. “Maybe four.” 

“What a nice way to start the day.” She scooted down just a bit so she could kiss on the pulse point on his neck. “What are you up to today?” 

“Tackle that truck but I have to get some parts together first.” He reached over to snag a sheet to cover them as they cooled.

“You know what I want to do?” 

“What?” 

“Go for a ride. How’s the motorcycle?” 

“Oh, I got that fixed!” He turned over toward her and grinned. “Found a fuel pump and switched it out.” He put his hand in her hair and cradled her head, looking at her with those intense blue eyes that still took her breath away. “It’s a beautiful day. Should we take it out?” 

“Yes! I’ll pack some food in case we want to stay out a while.” 

 

It was early evening when they got back to Laurel Court, and they worked together on roasted butternut squash with thyme, grilled rabbit and a small salad of wild greens for supper. They mostly ate out of the garden or yard now, especially in the summer - canned food was still edible but not very appetizing and the easy dried food was mostly used up. They had gotten very creative with squash, potatoes, beans, tomatoes, and corn.   

After dark Amanda lay draped over him in the big king bed, Wayha in her rightful spot on Christian’s other side. 

“So you’re fifty,” he murmured again, tracing his hand down her back. 

She laughed and pushed him off. “What the hell is wrong with you? What does that even mean anymore?” 

“I dunno. Nothin’, I guess.” He slid past her hand and pulled her close. “There were days I never thought I’d get this old, even before the plague. I did some hard livin’.” 

Amanda felt a chill and pulled him close for warm kisses to chase it away. If she didn’t have him - they hardly ever thought about or talked about the time before anymore. They had found at some point that it made it almost impossible to get through the day. She got lost in the familiar tornado of his kisses and touches.   

  
  


**************************************************************************************************************************

 

Christian was dreaming that Jack was barking, steady and high pitched. But Jack was gone - it was Wayha? He was yelling to make her stop, but she just kept going - he swam awake but the barking continued, higher pitched, more like  _ beep, beep, beep --  _

He sat up and reached for Amanda but she was gone. He was still dreaming because this wasn’t Laurel Court and there were fireflies or candles around the room, a red light glowing next to the bed and something green glowing above the dark square of the doorway. He finally focused on the sound and found a small black box with a glowing “7:00” and the insistent beeping. 

_ Alarm clock,  _ he thought.  _ The alarm is set for seven, _ even as he fumbled and smacked at it until it stopped. He looked around groggily, his head pounding as if he was hung over. “Amanda?” His voice was rough. In what dream did his head hurt, and he could feel the sheets twisted around his legs and the scruff of whiskers on his hand when he rubbed his face? 

He was in a darkened room, light coming through the crack between heavy curtains, barely illuminating a dresser, TV, table, and the bed he was in with a rumpled maroon comforter. The green light over the door was an exit sign - 

_ Light?  _ He looked from the exit sign to the glowing alarm clock and stumbled as he struggled out of the covers. In a few dizzy steps he was at the door and slapped the wall until he hit a switch and the room was illuminated. He stood blinking, hand on the wall. He seemed to be in a hotel room. He was wearing boxers. Without thinking he ran his hand through his hair and stopped - his hair was short. He focused on his raised forearm - the long silver burn scar was gone. He stood swaying, waiting for the room to fade and change, waiting to either wake up back in Laurel Court with Amanda at his side, or find himself sliding to the next dream of the  _ Leverage _ studio or Richard’s house or at his parents’ ranch surrounded by his dead family. 

Nothing changed. He became aware of the sound of his own breathing and a hissing, whooshing noise - the air conditioning. There were steps outside the door behind him, louder and then fading away. This was the cruelest dream yet. It was so real, like he could open the door and find a world of people again. 

“Wake up,” he said aloud. He looked around and his attention was caught by the clock.  _ 7:03.  _ That reminded him of Amanda’s trick from years ago of how to tell if you were in a dream. He held his hand in front of his face - five fingers. He looked away and back, but it was the same. He glanced at the clock - still 7:03, but it changed to 7:04 while he watched. 

He jumped and spun around at a knock at the door behind him. He stared at it, waiting again for it to change, but it stayed solid and normal. Dreams could seem very real, he knew, but usually if he knew he was dreaming he noticed the strange things. 

The knock came again. “Chris? You up?” 

“What?” He braced himself and turned the knob, swung the door open, and there was Hank. 

“Oh, good, you’re up. I wasn’t sure after last n-” 

Hank’s words were cut off as Christian swept him up in a bear hug. “Fuck, it’s good to see you. How long will I be here? Will I get to see everyone?” 

“See who?” 

“Are my parents alive? And Jenny? Ah, hell, man.” Christian hugged him again, marveling at the clarity of the dream. He could see the pattern on the wallpaper in the hallway, and feel the texture of Hank’s shirt, and smell his shampoo for God’s sake. 

“What the hell, Chris? Why wouldn’t they be? Are you OK?” 

“So where am I? I don’t understand why it’s not fading yet.” Christian looked at his hand - still five fingers. The number on the door was a steady 201. 

“Come here, buddy. Sit down. What did you get into last night?” Christian was barely aware of Hank guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. “We’re at a hotel in Portland. We’re flying to L.A. tomorrow.” 

“Can I go see them? How does this work?” Christian remembered feeling fear or excitement in dreams, but not feeling his heart pound like this. 

“What the fuck - Go see your folks? In Oklahoma? No, you don’t have time for that.”

“I can call them though, right? How does this work?” Chris snatched up a cell phone he spied on the nightstand. That part was right for a dream - when you looked around for something you could usually find it. 

“Yeah, sure, call them. I’ll be right back.” Hank pulled out his own phone as he stepped back, hitting a button and talking urgently, but Christian was busy with his phone. 

“Hello?” 

He was so choked up he could hardly speak at the sound of his mom’s voice. “Momma?” 

“Hey, Chris. Are you OK?” 

“God, I missed you so much.” 

“Missed me from what? Are you OK?” 

The day was a blur. He called everyone he knew, and those he reached were glad to hear from him but puzzled. Eric, his manager, showed up. When Christian described the plague and how they had all died and kept asking how long he had before he went back, Eric made a call and another man showed up, who turned out to be a doctor. 

When they started talking about the stress he’d been under and maybe he should go stay somewhere, he realized he better start taking his actions here seriously, dream or not. And when he went to sleep that night and woke up the next day still at a hotel in Portland, with the alarm clock and door numbers still solid and stable and with the expectation that he would board a plane and fly to L.A., he started to wonder what was the dream and what was real.    

  
Amanda lay wide awake in the dark, listening to Ryan’s soft snores. She glanced at the clock - now it was 3:27. She looked at the ceiling and pictured it shattered, as she had last seen it. Sometime between Richard in Charlotte and the bike accident, the large maple in the front had fallen and smashed through the room. She had found it at least a year later and Christian had helped her sort through the rotten debris to find the jewelry box and her wedding ring, the only thing she wanted to save. 

She propped up on one elbow and watched Ryan for a moment, the soft rise and fall of his chest, then got out of bed as she had almost every hour and went first to Aaron’s room and then Susan’s, standing in the doorway and listening to them breathe for a full minute. 

She couldn’t stand to go back to bed again, laying next to Ryan without touching him, but if she draped a leg over him or laid her hand on his chest he would wake up and be annoyed. Two nights ago she had fallen asleep tangled with Christian, and woke yesterday morning with her back to Ryan. She thought it was a dream at first and had gotten up to see her kids and cuddle a young Jack, coming back to bed half expecting Ryan to have turned into Christian. He was still Ryan and she cuddled up to his back, soaking in his warmth and familiar scent, before it struck her how real and sharp everything was. She looked at her hand, and then the clock, and then got out of bed and opened book after book, opening and closing to the same page, checking the unchanging print. She spun around in the living room, eyes closed, waiting for this reality to slide away. 

She had stood there, just normal dizzy from spinning in the normal, solid room. Heart in her throat she ran back to the bedroom and put her hands on Ryan. “Are you real? You didn’t die? Ryan?” 

He rolled to his back. She had not dreamed about that mole on his forehead, because she had forgotten it. His hair was mussed, his eyes half closed. “Hmm? I have a meeting at GE today, and then lunch with Jim.” 

“Ryan!” She lay down and pulled him close. “I can’t believe it.” 

“What?” He scooted away from her kisses. “I told you, I need to get going.” 

“The kids - are they real too?” She jumped up and ran first to pull Susan up to her for a hug until she pulled away to slide back in her covers, and then to Aaron. “Sweetheart, I missed you so much! You’re OK?” She held him back, looking him up and down through her tears. 

“Mom, don’t. I don’t have to get up yet.”  

 

It was 4:05 a.m. now, her second night back. Last night she had cuddled and tangled with Ryan until, grumbling, he got up and went to the couch, leaving her alone in the queen bed. She had spent the day trying to get ahold of her kids, to pull them in for hugs to make sure they were real, only for them to pull away. She stood now in the living room and imagined someone coming at her. Palm thrust, twist, shift, step and - down he went. Again and again, alone in the darkened room, she went over all the moves Christian had taught her. 

“You don’t keep something like that from a dream,” she murmured. She curled up on the couch, Jack on her lap. She wasn’t sure whether all of the plague and Christian was the delusion, or this was. She didn’t know how to tell, and she didn’t know how to get back. She ached for Christian. She felt invisible to her family. Maybe she had been gone for 10 years, and they hadn’t noticed.  

 

Christian closed the hotel room door, let the smile slide from his face, and collapsed on the bed. He was bone dead tired. In the three weeks since he had - come back? Anyway, since Laurel Court and Amanda and the plague had disappeared, he’d had a writing and recording session for the CD he was hoping to put out soon, he had been to London and back with Riley for the breast cancer benefit concert, and had gotten the almost-final  _ Junkie _ script. He had apparently done the Portland comic con a week before. The last few weeks had been the best acting of his life as he tried to act like he knew what was going on, both so he wouldn’t get committed to rehab or a mental institution and so he wouldn’t worry his family and friends. 

He went over it again even as the waves of exhaustion hit him. It was March of 2016, and no one had heard of the plague. He could play piano and pick guitar - the first time he sat to play with his friends they just stared at him. 

“What the hell, Chris?” Hank had asked. 

“What?” 

“When did you learn to play like that? Have you been holding out?” 

“Fuck you.” 

There was a piano in the hotel lobby in London. He gathered a crowd, playing all the songs he could remember. He knew how to build a smokehouse and change out the whole fucking fuel system on a diesel vehicle. He was writing down the songs he’d written in the last nine years as fast as he could type. Everything he looked up about dreams, no one kept real skills like that. 

And Amanda. Christian sat up, grabbed his laptop and clicked from one open tab to the next. There was Amanda’s Facebook, her fucking LinkedIn, the Laurel Court website, and a picture of her house from Google Earth. A picture of her, younger and with a cute short pixie haircut, smiling with a young blonde woman and a baby, with a newspaper article ‘Baby Shares the Love of Two Mothers’ about Aaron’s open adoption. Three articles about him came up in the first two Google pages because she had commented on them. And there - the last tab, there was her phone number. He had gone over this so many times since he had awakened in the hotel room. He put his head in his hands. She was real. 

He thought about emailing or sending a facebook message, but the thought of waiting for a reply, not knowing what she was thinking or how she reacted -  _ I just need to know _ , he thought. He couldn’t have made up all those details about her that matched everything he found. He took a deep breath and picked up his cell phone. He dialed three numbers, then put it down and went to the hotel phone by the bed and, hand shaking, dialed. 

“Hello?” A male voice. Ryan, he thought. 

He couldn’t speak for a second. “Can I talk to Amanda?” he finally managed to say. 

“Just a second.” A moment passed, and then, further from the phone, “Amanda!” 

“Who is it?” he heard her say faintly. 

“I don’t know.” 

Then, finally, her voice. “Hello?” 

“Amanda?” 

“Yes?” 

“It’s Christian Kane.” There was silence and his heart pounded, trying to imagine what she was doing. The silence stretched on and his hand was shaking. He thought maybe he should just hang up but he couldn’t do it. 

“Oh, sure!” She finally said in a strange, bright voice. “Yeah, I can do that. Can you hold on one second?” The phone was pulled back, but not far because he could hear clearly when she said, “It’s something about the church board of trustees. I think I took that stuff to the basement.” 

Church board? he thought. But he took deep breath, because if she was lying to Ryan about who was on the phone . . . 

He heard a door open and close, and then a whirring sound. “Christian?” There she was. Her voice was familiar but breathless. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” 

“Oh my God. Was it real, then? Do you remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember. Nine years at Laurel Court.” His heart was pounding and hearing her voice made his breath catch. 

“Oh my God.” There was another sound and he realized she was crying. “I had no way of knowing. I thought I was insane. I had no way to check if anything about you was real, because anything I could look up I already knew.” She took a long, shuddering breath and his heart tightened. “Do you have a scar on your chest from flipping a quadrunner when you were sixteen?” 

“Fourteen. Yeah, I do.”

He clung to the phone as he listened to her voice. “And you told me about dating Linda in L.A. And what happened. Was that real? I couldn’t have known that, right?” 

“Yeah, baby. That was real. No one knows that.” He swallowed hard. “I found online about your kids, the adoptions, your house, everything you told me. I found Laurel Court. I didn’t see how I could have made you up, you were right there.” 

“It was real?” she asked. “Everyone died, and we kept each other alive?” 

“Yeah.” He was crying too, he realized. “You went crazy every time I kissed you.” 

“Oh my God, baby. I miss your kisses so much.” 

“Me, too, darlin.” He could hardly breathe. 

“What is going on? This is real, right? I’m back in my life, everyone’s alive. It’s before the plague.” 

“I know. I woke up in a hotel room and went fucking insane. I couldn’t find you. And then there was Hank at my door - I called my family. They thought I was crazy.”

“Sweetie -” she was crying again. “Is this real? Where did we meet?” 

“Nashville,” he said. “About three years after. I was drinking myself to death and you set off fireworks.” 

“And you walked out of the night. I really thought I was dreaming.” 

“And you took me to bed that night, and I thought  _ I _ was fucking dreaming.” 

“You kept trying to scare me off.” 

“And you wouldn’t go.” Their voices were quiet now and there was silence for a few moments. _Now what_ , he thought? _It was real, she remembers. Now what?_

“How are you?” she asked softly. 

He smiled. “I’m . . . I have no fucking idea. I’m busy, so that helps. I’m about to shoot  _ Junkie.  _ Again. They could adjust the shooting to give me a few days, but I’ll be on set tomorrow. Then London again for One More Shot. The only thing that’s getting me through is I’ve done this before. I remember from the first time, before. Twelve fucking years ago, but still.” He paused. “Apparently I was fucked up when I first . . . . got back? Everyone I know was asking what was wrong with me. I was going crazy trying to figure out what was going on and where you were, and they thought I had gotten into drugs. I’m pulling it together now, though.” He felt a huge weight being lifted of someone understanding, and knowing he was not crazy, and the relief of not having to figure out how he was supposed to be acting right now. 

She was quiet, and then said, “My family didn’t notice.” 

“What?” He felt anger rising up for her, and tried to imagine how alone that felt. “They didn’t . . . are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Not really. I was pretty emotional for a few days, but I don’t know - maybe I was pretty emotional before? I’ve had some girlfriends ask if anything’s wrong, but Ryan . . .” there was silence. “If I don’t bring it up he doesn’t either. I hadn’t remembered how bad it had gotten.” 

“Shit, baby. I am so sorry.” He wanted to leap through the phone and hold her, and kiss her, and fucking notice when she’d had her life ripped apart. 

“Christian, I’m so glad everyone’s alive, my family’s back, that’s all I wanted. But I miss you so bad!” And she was crying again, sobbing. 

“Me too, baby.” Tears were running down his face again. He didn’t bother to wipe them away. “I’ve called or visited everyone I know, I just needed to know they were alive. But I just keep wanting to turn around and tell you about it. I think about you all the time.” 

“What are we going to do?” He heard her soft voice. 

“I don’t know.” He took a deep breath, trying to ease the pain in his chest. “Do you know I was with you longer than I had ever been with anyone else? Shit, maybe more than everyone else all together? I don’t see how I can walk away from that. But . . .” 

“But. You’re on the other side of the country, you have your work, and I’m married with kids.” 

“Yeah. That last part, especially.” 

“Yeah.” They were quiet for a few moments, and he just sat there, gripping the phone. He knew he had a good couple of months coming up. One project after another, movies, the TV show. Everything he wanted in his life. He remembered the first time through, feeling on the top of the world - until the world fell apart. 

But now, after seeing who he was separate from all that, after being with someone who . . . he couldn’t hardly say what she did, except refuse to ever tolerate anything less than exactly who he was, often when he didn’t even know. 

“I love you,” she said. He caught his breath at her words. He hadn’t heard them often, but had felt them every minute. 

“I love you,” he said softly. 

He heard her take a breath. “At least I know I’m not insane. I can still fight, and clean a rabbit. I kept thinking, you don’t keep skills you learn from dreams. I remember your songs.” She sighed. “But I’m young again.The scars are gone, from the ax and the bike accident. Somehow it really happened, and then we got set back 12 years or so. Christian -” he closed his eyes at the pain in her voice. “Do you think it happens again? Do we have to go through that again?” 

“I don’t know, darlin’. I don’t think I can.” 

“I don’t . . . I just . . . . Ryan and my dad died in July of 2016. I had heard something about the virus before, but that’s when it really started.” 

“Yeah. That’s when I started losing people, the end of June. So in about four months.” 

“Baby, what are we going to do?” she asked again. 

“I surely do not know.” He took a breath and put his head in his hand. “Can I call you again?”

“Oh - yes. Absolutely. Fuck yes.” He grinned and could just picture her as she talked. “Let me give you my cell number. It’ll be easier for me to get away.” 

He wrote down the number. “Thanks. Church board, by the way?” 

She chuckled. “Yeah. I’m involved in lots of stuff. He doesn’t really keep track. It was the only thing I could think of to have an excuse to leave the room. Then I came downstairs and started the dryer, just in case.” 

He hesitated. “Darlin’, will it cause you problems if I call?” 

“I’ll work it out. I’ll go crazy if you don’t.” He felt her hesitation. “But you don’t have to,” she said quickly. “If it doesn’t work for you.” 

“Baby, really?” He grinned but felt that welling in his heart again at how hard she worked to never put a demand on him, to never ask for one thing he wasn’t ready to give. “I called you, remember? I want to. I need to. It’s all right.” 

“Ok.” He heard a deep breath. “If I can’t answer, do you want me to call you back?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll answer if I can.” 

“I don’t think we should text.” He nodded at her suggestion - he hadn’t thought of that. “He won’t care what random numbers are on my phone, but he can read texts.” 

“Yeah.” What am I doing? he thought. This is a married woman. And he didn’t think he would be happy with talking on the phone forever - he intended for them to get together somehow.  _ We were together nine years,  _ he thought. _ She kept me alive. I’m not giving this up _ . 

“Darlin’, are you sure? I’m asking you to lie to your husband. This isn’t right. I don’t want to mess up your life.” He couldn’t breathe. He had to say that, he had to give her an out, but hoped to hell that she wouldn’t take it, that she still wanted him as much as he wanted her. 

“No. Whatever stupid fucked-up asshole of a God did this to us messed up our lives. You gave me a reason to live again, remember? And how else are we going to get through this? Who else in my life will understand why I’m falling apart, and why I’m freaking out if someone gets a cold?” Her voice softened. “He’ll be ok. We’ll be ok. Or we won’t. To be honest with you, I don’t really care right this moment. I’m not going to purposely blow up my life, but unless we are going through the plague again, there is nothing that can happen that is worse than what I’ve already been through.” There was a pause. “Yes, Christian. Please call me.”

“I will.” He was breathing again. “I don’t know when, or how often . . .” 

“Yeah, I know. We’ll see how it goes.” 

“All right, darlin’.” He didn’t want to push his luck and started to say ‘I gotta go,’ but couldn’t make himself do it. “How are you?” 

He heard her scoff. “Huh. This is a rough time for me. I think I kinda forgot how bad this was, for normal life. That’s why I got obsessed with you in the first place.” There was a pause, and then her voice seemed stronger. “But I’m fine. I remember how torn up I was the first time. It’s not bothering me so much this time around. I just look at my family and think, ‘Oh, you’re not going to talk to me? And you’re going to scream at me? Whatever.’” She was quiet a moment. “I missed them so much, though, and all I wanted was to be with them, but . . .” He heard a deep sigh. “I dunno. They don’t need me. I mean, they need me to take them places and cook and stuff, but they don’t need who I am. Anything I do outside of whatever they expect, or outside of anything for them, and I get ‘God, mom, why are you  _ being _ like that?’ Does that make any sense?” 

He lowered his head to his hand, feeling so helpless. She had explained it to him, but now he saw for himself why it had been so important to her to stand up for herself and to take care of herself. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. You worked so hard for that.” 

She was crying again, great sobs. He clung to the phone, wishing so much he could be holding her, letting her cry on his shoulder. When she caught her breath she said, “I cannot even tell you how much that meant.” 

“I wish I could get ahold of you right now.” His voice was a growl. 

“Me too.” She took a breath. “I’m going to do a few things different. The next few months are rough for Aaron. I can’t make it worse. But I don’t even know if it’s worth it. They might all be gone again in six months.” 

“I know, Amanda. I think - I think I’m just gonna act like life goes on, and it doesn’t happen. If it starts, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Her voice sounded more sure. “What else can we do?” 

He let the silence stretch out. “I miss you,” he said. 

“I miss you too, baby,” she said. “Constantly.” He just held the phone and listened to her breathe, thinking about how he used to lay in bed and watch her sleep. Finally she said, “I guess I better go. This is a long time to talk about the church board.” 

He grinned and took a deep breath to try to ease the tightness in his chest. “Yeah.”

There was quiet for a few more moments. “Christian, what had you decide to call me?” 

She doesn’t want to hang up either, he thought. Of course. “Once I realized when and where I was, I looked you up, and saw you were real. Everything matched. Everyone kept telling me I had a dream or hallucination, but - fuck, how could I dream a real person? I just had to know.” He could hear her breathing, and feel her listening. “I was afraid to call because I thought, what if you didn’t remember? Then what was I gonna do?” 

“Yeah. Then you really would think you were crazy,” she said. 

He took a big breath and felt his chest ease. He was going to have to call her just for a reality check sometimes, besides the urgent need to be with her. 

“That’s why I couldn’t contact you,” she continued. “I had no reason to believe the whole thing wasn’t in my head. What could I do, post on your Facebook ‘I had the most realistic dream about you last night’?”

“I remembered that. You said once if it was not real, I would have to contact you.” He paused. “That’s kinda weird, darlin’. How did you know?” 

“We also talked about if it was aliens or the rapture, so I think we covered all the bases.” He heard a catch in her voice, the start of a sob. “Baby, I miss talking to you so much. I miss saying what I have to say and being heard.” He heard her scoff. “I’ve gotten a few odd reactions from people, especially Ryan. Apparently I’m saying stuff I used to keep to myself.” 

He grinned and shook his head. “I can fucking imagine, sweetheart.” From how she was when they met and how she described herself before, to how open and fearless she was at the end - he could picture it, and the shock to the people around her. “Keep it up, if you can.” 

“I do have to go now.” He heard a big sigh. “I can’t wait to talk to you again, but at least I can see you. I can’t wait for the  _ Junkie _ pictures and OMS videos.” There was a pause. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” He waited, and she finally hung up. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe you all an explanation. 
> 
> As you've seen in my notes, this started as a little daydream - how would I get Christian Kane to myself? It turned into a world for me to escape to, and sort of a psychological study on identity and who we are separate from all the roles of society. 
> 
> Last year was bad. My husband's cancer came back and there were some really rough weeks. Everyone kept telling me what a great job I was doing and how well I was holding it together. I guess, but I felt like I was falling apart. This story still gave me some respite, but I started thinking, "This is all well and good to have a world to hide in in 10 years after the apocalypse, but how do I get through this day, this life?" What if I woke up one bad day, like last Tuesday, and Christian called me out of the blue? What would that be like? 
> 
> Also, I felt the Apocalypse was played out, for my purposes. They could go on and have other crisis, and meet other people or not, but the interesting thing to me was who do they say they are, for themselves and each other? How do you trust again? What do you give to be in a relationship? And again, who are we for real for real, separate from society? That seemed to me to be answered. 
> 
> So they wake up with all their hard-won ideas about themselves and have to fit back into others' roles and expectations - now THAT'S interesting! How would any of us function if our fundamental beliefs, priorities, and understanding of the world did not match those around us? Society functions because we all have some basic agreements about reality. 
> 
> I hope you all forgive me, because "time travel/it was just a dream" is a pretty cheap and amateur literary trick. I'm excited to explore this, though, as my roles change. I'm a widow now, after being married 30 years. I'm finding already there are expectations about what that role looks like. Do I just slide into that, or step back and really examine who I am and what I want my life to be from now on?


	35. Chapter 35 - I miss you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are back in their lives now. How would you stand it? What do they have to do to fit in and rebuild their lives, and is it worth it?

 

Chapter 35 

Amanda sat on the edge of the bed and watched Ryan put on his tie. “Hey, Ryan.” 

“Yeah.” He flipped the collar down and put on his watch without looking up at her. 

“Do we ever talk about anything?” she asked.

“Hmm? What do you need to talk about?” He glanced up briefly as he patted his pockets to check for his wallet and phone. 

“No, I meant, do we ever talk about anything? What’s the last conversation we had?” 

“What are you talking about? You told me about Aaron’s appointment, I’ll be there.” 

“No, what do -” but he had scooted past her and left the room. 

She sighed and moved to the doorway, watching him stop in the bathroom then head to the kitchen. She wanted to get ahold of him, to slide her arms around him and have him turn and kiss her. She didn’t want the eye roll or exasperated sigh she would get if she interrupted his morning routine. She didn’t want his glances that skidded over her, barely seeing her. 

What she wanted was Christian. 

“Don’t you have any coaching visits today?” Ryan called from the kitchen as he sat with his oatmeal and coffee. 

“They cancelled.” The truth was she hadn’t scheduled any classroom visits for today. Or yesterday. 

_ I should make some calls for tomorrow _ , she thought. She went back to the bedroom, kicked the door closed and fell on the bed. It was almost a month since she had come back, and four days since Christian’s call. It was hard enough to focus on her work before, when she thought it was just a psychotic break of some kind, but now knowing the plague was coming, nothing seemed to matter. Christian’s call - she closed her eyes and let the memory sharpen, hearing every word again, feeling the rush of heat over her at the thought of his voice. 

_ Maybe that was part of the hallucination, too. Maybe he never called.  _ She didn’t really care. She heard Ryan moving in the living room. He would leave without a kiss, without a word maybe. 

“Hey,” Ryan said. She sat up, startled. He was back at the bedroom door. “Aaron’s appointment is tomorrow, right?”  

“Yeah.” 

“Is this the psychiatrist about his meds, or the new counselor?” 

“Meds,” she said. “The counselor’s not for another two weeks, I think.” 

“All right.” And he was gone, footsteps in the hall and with a slam out the front door. 

“Love you too,” Amanda called. She flopped back on the bed. Aaron’s medication change hadn’t helped, and they never made it to that appointment with the new counselor. Why was that - 

“Oh, shit.” Amanda rolled out of bed and grabbed her phone to check the date. “March 24 - what year is it - oh shit, oh shit.” Heart pounding, she ran up the stairs to Aaron’s room. She threw open the door. “Aaron. Aaron! Are you OK?” She pulled back the covers and it felt like her heart started to beat again when he groaned and blindly reached to pull them back. 

She let out a long, ragged sigh as she tucked the comforter back around him and sat next to him, stroking his head. It was starting to sort itself out in her head. March 24 before the plague was Aaron’s suicide attempt, but it was in the afternoon. She came home from work and found him -

“Hey. You OK?” she asked softly. 

He pulled away from her hand. “Mom! Leave me alone.”

“Hey, Aaron.” Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn’t take him to the hospital before he did anything. She could barely speak to him - he was so angry and lashed out at anything she said. The overdose of whatever drugs he’d gotten ahold of had put him in the ICU for two days and had been the worst time of her life, until a few months later. It had started a downward spiral they were still dealing with when the plague hit. 

He tried to pull away twice more, but she just shifted and kept running her fingers over his hair. He finally threw back the covers and glared at her. “What!” 

“I know you’ve been having a really rough time. I thought I could take a day off work, and I’ll call you off sick for school, and you and I could do something special today.” All she could think of was physically staying with him and keeping him from taking the drugs. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but if they could get through this day, maybe she could make things change. 

“God, mom, leave me alone!” He jerked away and rolled to the other side of the bed to avoid her touch. 

“I just want to spend some time together today.” 

He turned and glared at her. The pain and anger on his face broke her heart. “Oh, so all of a sudden you care? You hate spending time with me. It’s always Susan, Susan, Susan. Just quit pretending and leave me alone!”  

“I care and we’re going to spend the day together.” 

“No we are not!”

Amanda stood up. “As soon as Sue’s on the bus, I’ll come back and check on you and we’ll decide what to do.” 

“No we won’t! Leave me alone!” He was screaming as she left the room. 

Amanda remembered how she would have been before, how these moments left her shaking and wracked with guilt, wondering what she had done wrong and helpless in the face of his pain. This time it wasn’t his lashing out and hurtful words that had her shaking. It was the memory of him burning up with fever and dying in her arms. 

_ This? This is nothing, _ she thought.  _ He can say whatever the hell he wants. _ If the plague didn’t happen, maybe something she did could change things. And if it did, at least she’d have the memory of a day with Aaron, if she didn’t decide to kill herself.   

 

“Chris, you can’t do that,” Bob said.  

“Why the hell not?” 

“We talked about this, with  _ Dusty Rose.  _ You can’t do a song like that and have it sell. You need to make it more universal. Damnit, why are we arguing about this again?” 

Christian opened his mouth to argue, then stopped and abruptly stood. “Right,” he said. “Let’s take five.” He swung his guitar off and headed out the door of the makeshift studio before anyone could say another word. 

Bob Ezrin had produced his last album,  _ House Rules,  _ and Christian knew he was lucky to have him back for the new project. If he ever managed to get another goddamn music CD made, Bob was the guy to get it done.  Their schedules had managed to coincide and he had one day, actually about seven hours, between wrapping up filming for  _ Junkie _ and heading to London, to get through as much music as he could with Bob. Christian could not afford to piss him off.     

Christian knew Bob was right about the song, but it was galling. He slammed back the door and stepped onto the porch of the Victorian house in the L.A. suburb. The living room was a little cramped but he’d practiced in worse places. He looked around to orient himself before heading down the street. He really only had a minute or two - Bob would up and leave if Christian wasted his time. 

_ This whole thing is a waste of time,  _ Christian thought. He had only gone half a block, but turned around and headed back. He had hardly recognized  _ Dusty Rose _ when they got done with it, made it more ‘universal,’ but it had hit a chord with a lot of folks and was gonna be a hit if he ever got the fucking CD done. He was so sick of it. He was sick of the games and sick of having to worry about what other people thought with every step. 

Bob didn’t think  _ Broken _ could be used, and  _ Tornado _ would be fine once they ‘cleaned it up.’  _ Fuck you, _ Christian thought.  _ Fuck you, fuck you. _ He thought of how Amanda had listened to his music, how she just glowed like she was at church every time he played. He had gotten used to playing for himself, to say what he needed to say, and he could hardly stand to be back where it seemed to be about everybody but him. 

He stopped on the porch, hand on the knob, and took a big breath. He could either get back in there and put up with this bullshit and have his life back, or turn around and chuck the whole thing. He was actually struggling with the choice, but what stopped him was wondering what his life would be, here in the real world, if he walked away. If he had Amanda - but she had a life, a husband and kids, across the country. It was a week since he called her - six days, really. Every day he fought himself to keep from calling again.  _ She is married, _ he thought.  _ She has her kids back. _

He steeled himself, put a smile on his face, and threw open the door. “Alright, let’s do this!” he hollered as he strode into the room. “Bob, whadaya got for me?”  

 

Amanda stood outside Aaron’s room, listening to the thump of his music.  _ So far, so good, _ she thought. It was about three days since she and he had gotten through their strange mother-son outing. He had screamed and yelled and threatened and said every hurtful thing he could think of, but hadn’t actually refused to get in the car. Before, she never would have been able to stand it, but this time she just ignored all the verbal abuse and went about the day as if this was normal. 

She did finally laugh out loud in the arcade parking lot. He wouldn’t choose a place for lunch so she said they would go to TGI Fridays. He refused to go, railing and cursing, while she calmly got in the car. Finally he screamed, “You don’t even care! Show some emotion, Botox!” Her laugh started another tirade, but she just waited that one out, too, until sullen and angry he finally got in the car. By the end of the day, though, after the arcade and lunch and movie and ice cream, after Aaron’s every attempt to goad Amanda into a reaction or tears or anger or anything, he finally settled down. They had a cautiously nice conversation about his music and some art he was working on for a friend’s online zine.  

While they were out, she had called Ryan at work and told him she had overheard Aaron say something on the phone that made her think he was taking drugs. She asked Ryan to come home and search his room, backpack, everything, before they got back. Ryan was frightened and furious at the pills, bong, and other paraphernalia he found. Amanda talked him out of confronting Aaron - that had always made it worse. When Aaron accused them of going through his room, they calmly denied it, and there wasn’t anything he could say about what was missing without admitting he had the drugs. 

So here, three days later, still no OD or suicide attempt. And since Aaron’s screaming and verbal attacks no longer got him attention or anything else from Amanda, they were easing. She didn’t know if things had really changed, or she was just postponing the inevitable, or if none of it would matter by July, but at least it was something. 

 It was dark when Amanda curled up on the couch with her glass of wine. Susan was asleep, Aaron was still listening to music in his room, and Ryan was at a meeting of some kind at work. She didn’t reach for the remote - of all the things she couldn’t stand about her life now, TV was at the top. She could find  _ Leverage  _ or  _ The Librarians,  _ but that was way too painful. She could listen to his music but could hardly stand to see Christian on TV. His characters were enough like the person she missed so desperately that it twisted her heart in knots. 

It was six days since he called.  _ He probably thought it was a mistake, _ she thought. She was trying to steel herself to the idea she wouldn’t hear from him again. She didn’t know how she would stand it, though. 

The ring of her cell pulled her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the clock as she pulled it off the charger. It was probably Ryan saying he would be late. She frowned as she picked it up - it was a phone number she didn’t know, not Ryan. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, darlin’.” 

“Oh my God - Christian?” In an instant her heart was pounding, her breath short. “You are real?” 

“Most days. Is - is this OK?” 

“Yes. Yes yes yes. Oh my God, baby.” Her vision swam for a moment. “I had just about convinced myself that I’d never hear from you again.” 

“I’ve been fighting myself to keep from calling you every day.” The familiar growl of his voice gave her shivers. 

“You don’t need to do that.” A couple deep breaths, and her vision cleared and her heart felt like it would stay in her chest. “You can call me.” 

There was a pause. “Where’s Ryan?” he asked. 

“A meeting at work. A union meeting or something.” She let herself fall back on the couch. “I was starting to think I’d made up the call, along with everything else. I’m so glad to talk to you.” 

“Me, too, darlin’.” 

She closed her eyes and let it soak in, the rich growl of his voice. “Are you OK? You looked really rough in the publicity pictures from  _ Junkie _ . I don’t remember that from last time.” 

“Yeah, I’m -” He paused. “Naw. To be honest with ya, I’m not. It’s like you said last time - this is nothin’ compared to what we been through. But for now, for trying to get my life back - it’s so fucked up.” He told her about the pre-recording session and what they wanted to do to his songs. “They fucked up  _ Dusty Rose _ , and I’ll be damned if I let them do that to our music. But if I don’t play ball the CD ain’t gonna happen. There’s no way around that.” 

“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.” Her heart ached for him, along with the warmth of hearing him call those songs ‘our music.’ She couldn’t hold the phone close enough - she felt a thrill at his every breath and every word.  

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do. It’s just how it went before, but I can’t hardly stand to play these games nomore.” He gave a hard sigh. “I’ll figure it out. How are you doing?” 

“Well, Aaron didn’t try to kill himself, so that’s good.” 

“ _ What?” _

“I headed off his suicide attempt, the drug overdose,” she said. “I don’t know if it made a difference or I just postponed it, but so far so good.” She told him about what had happened and their strange day together. 

“Now, hold up,” he said. “Why did I not know about this?” 

She grinned at his tone. “Oh, did I not mention it?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me, woman? How were we together ten years and you never mentioned your kid’s suicide attempt?”  

“Calm down, baby. You know how it was. I could barely admit I had a family. And then later -” She took a deep breath to ease the sudden tightness in her chest at the memory. “You - got me through it. Once we were OK, it wouldn’t do any good to bring it all up.” 

He was quiet. “Ok,” he said finally, his voice softened. “Yeah, I guess so. I just hate thinking there was somethin’ you didn’t think you could tell me.” 

Hot tears stung her eyes. “Oh my God.” She could barely speak past the sudden pressure in her chest.  

“What?” His voice was sharp. “Are you OK?”

“Yea - yeah, I’m fine.” She took a deep breath, smiling through her tears. “I think I’m getting used to nobody caring what I have to say again. All of a sudden I could just see how you looked at me. That took awhile to get used to, how you just saw my soul.”  

She heard his sharp intake of breath, and the silence stretched out until he finally said, softly, “Me too.” Then with a growl, “God _ damn _ I wanna get ahold of you so bad right now.” 

“Me too, baby. I can’t stand it.” She took another deep breath. As hard as this was, talking to him and knowing she couldn’t see him, it was so much better than no contact. “I’m so glad you called me again, Christian. It makes it a little easier, at least getting to talk to you.” 

“I guess.” He paused. “Yeah. Yeah, it does. Still so damn hard, though.”

“I know. I miss you. I don’t even have the comfort of the Christian Kane fangroups and Vote and Promote anymore.” 

“Why not? That wouldn’t hurt anything. I’ve been watching your Facebook.”  

Her breath caught. “You have? Are you kidding me?” 

“Well, of course I have, darlin’. It’s all I have of you.” She could hear his grin. “I got to see Jack, and your garden. You don’t do enough selfies, though. I want to see you.” 

“Oh, wow.” 

“Now, what’s up with the fangroups?” 

“It’s so hard to see this person that’s almost you - it just makes me miss you so much,” she said. “And I have to be so careful. I don’t remember anymore what everyone knows and what is private. No one knows about Juliette Landau, right?” 

“Oh. Oh shit.” She heard the change in his voice as the realization hit. “Right. She’d be pissed if that got out.” He gave a hard sigh. “Yeah, there’s a lot that you know that no one else does. Goddamnit. It is so hard to put up with all the bullshit. And I never really noticed, before.”

“I know. It’s hard to do anything. I haven’t worked a day since you called.” 

“How’d you get away with that?” 

“I just didn’t call and make appointments. I couldn’t stand it, knowing the plague is coming and it’s all pointless.” She sighed. “Not any point sitting around waiting for everyone to die either, though.” 

“I know.” He told her how close he’d come to walking away from everything. “But then what? I gotta do somethin’ with my days. I could go around and build smokehouses, I guess.” 

 Amanda smiled. “You could get a job as a auto mechanic.” She curled up on the couch, the phone tucked on her shoulder. This back and forth, the banter and connection, felt so good and so familiar. 

“I got it,” he said suddenly. “What if we’re under deep cover?” 

“Who is?” 

“We are. Vicki and Michael. I’m this second-rate actor and singer -”

“No you aren’t!” 

“And your role is a teacher. We got the backstory, right? We got it down pat, almost like we lived it. Now, we gotta convince everyone we’re Chris and Amanda, which means we gotta do our fuckin’ work, sweetheart. We just play our parts. They don’t have to know it’s not really us anymore.” 

“And we can only talk on this encrypted line once in awhile, to report back. You know, this angsty mom bit is well within my wheelhouse. I got this.”  

“Hell yeah you do, baby,” he said. “You’re the best. Remember Amsterdam?” 

“Fuck yeah - we blew that counterfeit, um, soy sauce ring.” 

His laugh was hearty and deep and reminded her of so many times they found delight and joy in the smallest things. They fell into the familiar rhythm of spinning their imaginary adventure, laughing and teasing, until Amanda heard a car door slam. 

“Oh, shit. He’s home.”  She scrabbled up to peek out between the drapes. 

“Alright. I love the shit out of you, darlin’. I’ll call you soon.” 

“I love you.” She hung up as Ryan opened the door, her heart pounding and grinning from ear to ear. 

“Hey. How was your meeting?” she asked. 

“Fine,” he said shortly. She followed him as he pulled off his tie and headed to the bedroom. 

“Did it go the way you hoped?” she asked. 

“No. We have two guys who want the union to back them up on wrongful termination, and William wants to just handle it with the lawyer we have on the board. We’re gonna get ourselves in trouble. One especially is just a mess. We need to hire outside counsel.” He glanced at her in the doorway as he kicked off his shoes. “Why?” 

“What the hell do you mean, why?” she said. “I can’t be interested in your day?” He turned away without a reply.  

_ What would a dutiful wife do,  _ she mused. If this was a game, a role to play, and he didn’t owe her anything, if she wasn’t hurt and lonely from his distance, what would she do? She felt a pang over his suspicion - she probably hadn’t been that interested in his days for a while, and it started way before she came back. She stepped up to him, lightly leaning against his back. “Do you want some help relaxing?” 

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard when she felt him tense against her. “Amanda, it was a long day. I’m -”

“No, not that. I just meant I could give you a backrub if you want.”  

“Oh.” He paused, and she felt him relax. “Sure, that’d be nice.” 

Later as she sat astride him in the candlelight, he groaned as she ran her hands in long strokes down his back and worked out the knots in his muscles. 

“That feels so good,” he murmured. After she finished she got to lay in his arms a few minutes before he turned to fall asleep. When she heard his snores she reached over and softly laid her hand on his back. She felt more peaceful than she had since she got back. He wasn’t Christian and never would be, but most of the pain and hurt in their relationship was a long time ago for her. What if she could let all of that go and start fresh, like she just got dropped into an undercover mission? What if she didn’t take the dismissal and attacks to heart, but saw it as Ryan and Aaron playing out their roles. 

She took a chance and moved a little closer, sliding her arm around Ryan, but his breathing didn’t change and she relaxed against him. At least she could build happier memories and have fewer regrets when it all fell apart in three months.     

Christian sighed and dropped the phone on the table in the hotel room. He leaned forward, his head in his hands, before finally laying back on the bed. He had lost one good friend and a coworker to suicide, and could not imagine it being your kid.  _ How did she do it,  _ he thought. And here he was being a bitch whining about his music. 

When she described what it was like with Ryan he understood because he’d been there, feeling alone when a relationship got cold and distant. But not for seventeen fucking years! When it got hard, he got out. It’s not like he bailed at the first problem - he’d stick around a few months, trying to make it work. But a little over three years was his longest relationship before Amanda. 

What hurt was wondering if he’d always given up too soon, if he was alone now just because he was a quitter. Every reason there’d ever been that he’d left or been left, he and Amanda had gotten through. He thought Linda was too unpredictable and emotional, and Whitney left him because he was too focused on his work. Even Kim and her infidelity - with all of them, he never stopped to ask what else might be going on other than what he wanted. Amanda was fucking Richard right under his nose, she was as crazy as him when they met and that zoning out and going blank thing she did was scary. He didn’t even see anymore how you could let work interfere with a relationship, and somehow they made it through all that. Well, partly because there was nowhere to go, but partly because he cared about someone besides himself for a change.  

He picked up his phone, clicked on Juliet Landau’s number, then dropped it again. Before Amanda, Jules was the closest. They got along great, no problems, and they were crazy about each other. They were off and on for years, when it was convenient, and it was always great. When he was 28 or so, she was 35. She was ready to settle down and let him know - no pressure, just a fact. He thought he ‘wasn’t ready’, whatever the fucking hell that meant. She tried to wait for him, but he let her walk away. 

She had married Deverill Weekes, a British cinematographer, in 2003. She and Chris were still good friends, but things had changed, of course. She was happily married, and he was still alone, still had his precious freedom, still picking up girls whose names he forgot. He hadn’t been with someone more than a couple months since Sophia, in 2011. Until Amanda, of course.  

He sighed and got up to get ready for bed. He had an early call to fly to London tomorrow. He could think of two women there he could call and take to bed, but he didn’t know if he would bother. 

“I’m sick of it,” he muttered as he got in bed. He said that a lot lately. What he was sick of right this minute was being alone, and always having his guard up, and always putting on a show. 

 


	36. Chapter 36 - I'm not jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They keep trying to find their way back to their lives and back to each other. Can they have both?

Chapter 36

 

A week or so later Amanda was watching TV with Ryan when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Her heart leapt but she managed to keep a neutral expression. She let it go to voicemail, then when a glance told her Ryan was well engrossed in the show she wandered off and ended up in the basement. She had set up a little desk and office space for her consulting and other work, so she would have an excuse to slip off by herself. 

Sure enough, it was a message from Christian. She listened to it with a wide grin and heart pounding, hearing him say he was thinking of her and loved her. She flipped on a small radio for some background noise and called him back.  

“Hey, darlin’.” 

“Wow. Hi, baby.” His voice was like caramel and velvet, warm and purring. She shivered as she imagined him curled up in bed next to her, talking soft and low against her skin. 

“How are you, sugar?” 

“Better. The mission is successful. They don’t suspect a thing.” 

His deep chuckle sent another quiver down her back. “Good job, agent Vicki.” 

“How are you?” she asked. 

“I’m doin’ better, too. I decided to let Bob do what he wants and we’ll get the damn CD done, but I’m holding back some songs and doing ‘em myself the way I want.  _ Broken, Wildfire, Tornado, Pearls of Time -  _ I think the seahorse song, and I’ve wrote a couple more. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll put those out myself.” She could hear the grin in his voice. “I talked to him this week - he’s a little suspicious that I’m suddenly the most cooperative client he’s got. I don’t give a shit, though. He’ll get me produced for the commercial CD, and I’ll work on my project to keep from going crazy.”

“I’m so glad, sweetie. You sound a lot better.” 

“Yep, I’m good. How are you?” he paused. “How are you and Ryan?”  

“Well, my libido’s back, so he’s a happy camper.” The night after the back rub Ryan had initiated sex. She found she was able stay in her role, sort of, and accept and enjoy what was there instead of wishing for and trying to force more kisses, more eye contact, more connection. It wasn’t Christian, but it was at least something, and it had apparently been great for Ryan - he was more affectionate and interested in intimacy than he had been in a while.   

“What?” Christian asked. 

“Remember I told you, after we got Eli it pretty much died for me? I guess with my martial arts skills and firebuilding I kept my insatiable sex drive.” 

He was quiet a moment. “Huh.”

She laughed. “Yeah, huh. He’s not complaining, but he hasn’t asked what’s up. It’s weird. I don’t know how he goes through life so incurious about everything.” 

There was another long pause and she could picture the wheels turning, Christian trying to figure out what he wanted to ask. “How is that for you?” he finally said. 

It was her turn to hesitate. “Well, I think about being with you, so that makes it easier.” Her heart skidded at his sharp intake of breath. “Baby, it’s fine,” she continued. “He likes it when I get off, so he takes care of that first. I asked him to go down, but I won’t ask that again. There’s a reason I didn’t like it before you.” 

“Goddamn, baby,” he breathed. She couldn’t quite tell if that was lust or anger or frustration in his voice. 

“I miss your kisses, though. Is good kissing really that rare?”

His voice was a low, hot growl. “You want me to come down there and give him a demonstration?” 

“Oh my God. I wish we could. Like we did for Richard?” 

His chuckle gave her goosebumps. “Eating you out and fucking you right in front of your husband - you’d like that?”   

“I don’t care about doing it in front of Ryan, but what if you surprised me - you watched for everyone to leave, and I answer the door thinking it’s the meter reader or something and there you are -”  

“And I get my hands on you, and back you up on the wall -” 

“I start coming already, just from your kisses.” 

They spun a different kind of fantasy and she was panting and her heart pounding at Christian’s description of exactly how he would taste her, hands on her thighs and tongue exploring her, when she heard the basement door open.

“Amanda, are you coming back up?” Ryan called.

She took a breath and answered as calmly as she could over Christian’s ‘Oh, fuck.’ . “I got an email from Elaine about that training next week. I thought it would be easier to call her than to sort it out on email. I’ll be up in a little bit.” 

“Ok.” The door closed. 

“That was close. I’m glad I wasn’t the one talking right then,” she said. 

“You gotta go?” 

“No, I have a couple minutes. We have to behave, though.” 

His chuckle again gave her goosebumps. She closed her eyes and pictured him the way she had last seen him, in bed next to her with his hair wavy and wild with streaks of silver, a deep tan and deeper laugh lines and wrinkles, his body so familiar and his eyes warm and loving. 

“I love you so much,” she whispered. 

“Oh, God, me too, baby.” 

They sat in the quiet and she listened to his breathing. 

“Oh,” he said suddenly. “I gotta tell you something. Richard found me.” 

Her heart skipped a beat. “He did?” 

“Yeah. He recognized me from somewhere, and got ahold of me through Facebook. I called him a few days ago.” 

“How is he?” 

“Not too good. He thought he was crazy when he came back, of course, like we did. He was in such bad shape - he had to drop out of school, and his girlfriend left him.” Christian had visited Richard a few more times over the years, and each time found him more and more disconnected from reality. “I’ve talked to him a few times - I’m trying to help him get sorted out.” 

“That poor guy. Does he ask about me?” 

“Yeah. He’s trying to find you, ‘cause he thinks you were there with him at the end. He won’t, though - he doesn’t know your last name, and didn’t know about Cincinnati. I’m glad you’re not on the Kaniac forums, though. I think he woulda found you by now if you were.” 

“Oh, wow. Me too, then.” She felt a chill. The plague world had continued for five or six years after the incident with Richard so it wasn’t like she was still worried or freaked out about it, but the thought of him coming into her life now was upsetting. 

“I found Carson, too,” Christian continued. “I called him up, but he didn’t know me. Only the people who were alive remember, I guess.” 

“Why us three out of the whole world?” 

“I know know, sugar.” 

They were quiet again but with a tension that wasn’t there before. 

“Christian, it’s April fifth.” 

“I know.” 

“It starts in June.” 

“I know,” he said again. 

“What are we going to do?” She couldn’t help it - her voice broke. 

“Well, here’s what I was thinkin’,” he said. She took a deep breath and smiled even through the tight constriction in her chest and brimming tears. This was Christian in problem-solving mode, in his take-action approach. She had teased him so much about his inability to just let things be, but she had learned to be very grateful. 

“We won’t know for another six weeks or so,” he continued. “Until then, we just go on - we let Vicki and Michael get our lives back, right? If it starts, we just gotta be with our families. After . . . everyone’s gone,” His voice quavered, but was strong and firm as he went on. “After, let’s meet at Laurel Court. I’m gonna get Carson, and anyone else. I know a few survived for a while, I’m trying to remember where we saw the camps and such. I’ll gather up what people I can and meet you.” 

“Oh, God, we have to go through this again?” She pictured an eternity of losing everyone and rebuilding a life, over and over. 

“No, no we don’t, darlin’. We can end it any time - I’ll find a gun, you’ll find a pharmacy. But we can always do that tomorrow, right? Let’s just meet up, and then we’ll decide.” 

She took a deep breath and felt her heart slow. “Okay. Yeah, that makes sense. But before you head east to look for people, stop and get me.” 

“Oh, hell, yeah. I’ll look on my way, but I’m coming straight to you. Then we’ll stock up Laurel Court and head out together.” There was a long pause. “If we decide to stay and do this again.” 

 

She started hearing from him a little more often, every three or four days. She lived for those calls - it felt like those few minutes were real life, and the rest was playacting. She ‘got her life back,’ though, as Christian phrased it. They made it to Aaron’s new counselor, which was promising. Things were a little better than before the plague but his explosive anger episodes was just as bad, if not quite as frequent. 

She had been inconsistent before about consequences for his behavior, because it often made it so much worse.  She found that not caring made it a lot easier to follow through. “What’s he gonna do, die in a plague?” she muttered to herself as took his phone and shut the door against his screaming curses and threats. When he laid his hands on Susan, shoving her against a wall, she didn’t hesitate to call the police. That finally got his attention and things started to smooth out. 

 

It was mid-April and he had called two or three more times. It had been four days since his last call and she was in her basement office, doing work but mostly waiting for the phone to ring. 

She swooped it up on the first ring, “Hi, baby.” 

“Hi, sugar.” They chatted about their day. As always she just melted into his voice, closing her eyes to imagine him next to her. 

“I was with someone.” he said abruptly. 

Amanda leaned her head against her hand. She had wondered about that. They’d been back about six weeks - she thought he just wasn’t telling her about it. “I hope you had fun.” 

There was a pause. “I went to bed with someone last night,” he said. 

She laughed. “I know that’s what you meant, jackass. I hope it was really nice.” 

“You aren’t jealous?” 

It was her turn to pause. She loosened her grip on the phone and took a deep breath away from the receiver, where he wouldn’t hear it. “Were you with her 20 hours a day for nine years?” she asked softly. 

She heard his sigh and a small chuckle. “No, ma’am.” 

“Then I’m not jealous.” She took another breath and knew he would hear it this time. “We have to figure out how to live our lives, Christian. I’m not going to do that to myself. Or to you. Are you jealous that I’m having sex with my husband?” 

There was silence from the phone. She waited a moment, then sat up as the silence lengthened. “Oh my God - are you kidding me?” she asked incredulously. 

“Well, not jealous.” She grinned and shook her head at the tone in his voice. She hadn’t heard that defensiveness very often. “Just . . . concerned at the lost potential? He doesn’t appreciate you.” 

“There are lots of unappreciated women out there. We’ll live.” 

“Huh.” 

“So, was it nice?” she asked. 

“What?”’

Amanda started to stay ‘Being with her,’ but changed it at as she spoke. “Having sex with her.” 

“What? Why would you ask that?” 

“You’re the one who brought it up, buddy. Did you have fun?” 

“Fuck. Yes, it was fun. It was fine. She’s a nice girl. Do you want details?” She heard the growl behind a grin in his voice that she recognized from when she used to tease or aggravate him or catch him by surprise. 

“Sure, if you want. I’d love to hear all about it.” Her answering grin was wide and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud at his answering growl. She loved teasing him, shocking him, and if they were together right now he’d take another minute or two of this and then have her in his arms, kissing her and touching her, possessive and hungry. 

“What is wrong with you??” he asked, but he was laughing. 

“If we were together right now you’d have me up against a wall.” 

“Damn right I would.” The gravel in his voice gave her shivers. 

“If you told me about it, I could imagine it was me.” 

“Or we could just talk about what I would do if I had you here right now.” 

“Oh God.” Her breath caught. “Um, yeah, we could do that.” She wasn’t jealous, she really wasn’t, but if he wanted a reaction, he would get one - just not the one he was fishing for. “Or you could tell me just one thing. How did she kiss?” 

“Goddammit, woman. You are so aggravating.” 

“You like that about me.” 

“What if I told you she was better than you?” Her breath caught again, for a different reason, and it felt like her heart skipped a beat. There was a silence from him, as if he had stopped breathing too, and then he said, “Darlin’, no, I . . .” 

Amanda finally got her breath and talked right over him. “Then I guess you got really lucky, because we were amazing. I’m glad you had fun.”

There was quiet again, but she could hear him now, breathing. “I think I forgot for a minute who I was dealing with,” he said quietly. The growl was gone, it was just him, soft and warm. “It was fine, but it was nothin’ like what we had. I thought of you.” 

“You don’t have to say that.” She squeezed her eyes tight against the pain in her chest. It felt like a fist was squeezing her heart, she missed him so much. 

“I know.” She heard a short, hard sigh. “God, I wanna get my hands on you so bad right now. I just wanna wrap you up and hold you. I’m sorry I said that, baby.” 

“You can say what you want. I’m going to.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You know what, you are the only person in my life where I can be the person I’ve become. I don’t have to hide or pretend. Or protect you from the fact that I’m human. I might have to aggravate you a little more, to make up for everywhere else in my life where I have to be so fucking careful with everything I say and do, so I don’t set off someone’s feelings.” 

“I can take it, darlin’. I will tell you a little about last night. Her name is Kendra - I’ve known her a few years. We never really dated but we get together once in a while and we have a good time. And last night -” he paused and she hung onto the phone, hearing what he was saying but also hearing his voice, his breath, picturing herself in his arms in the bed or the hammock as he held her and shared something about his life with her. 

“I couldn’t quite figure out the difference at first. It was all good, but it was like she was doing what she thought I expected her to do. She kept looking at me, not like you did, but, like - checking in. I felt like I should give her a grade. I never noticed that before. I wondered - what would she be like if she let it go? If she didn’t give a fuck what I thought, and just - let it out? For herself?” 

The growl was back. “And, then o’course, darlin’, I thought of all the times you just went insane on me, just went out of your fucking mind without a single thought about what it looked like or what I thought. Just from my goddamn kisses, sometimes.” She heard a long breath, a little more unsteady this time, and it matched her own shuddering breath. “Fuck,” he ground out. “What are you doing all the way over there in fucking Ohio?”

“And what would you do if I wasn’t? If I was single and could pop over to where ever you are - where are you?” 

“Portland. Just started  _ The Librarians. _ We’re doing some fight choreography. Everyone else gets here in a week or so.” 

“Did Dean make you cut your hair?” 

“What? Don’t change the subject. You were on your way to Portland . . .”

“How would you explain it when you just start seeing some random fan?” 

“I don’t explain fuck to nobody.” 

“Would you keep it secret?” 

There was a pause. “I usually do,” he said cautiously. “You know that.” 

“But you weren’t usually with someone full-time, at least not for long. Would you want to do that, just meet up between jobs, or move in together?” 

“Shit. I was always gun-shy of too much time together, but if there’s one person in the world I know I could live with . . .” 

She closed her eyes against the tears that were welling up. “Christian, why are we talking about this? I can’t come to Portland.” 

She heard his sigh. “I know, baby.”

They were both quiet and she heard him sigh again, shorter and louder.  _ He’s trying to figure it out, _ she thought.  _ If there’s a way, he’ll find it. But there’s not. _ She felt the clenching around her heart of missing him, and something else - in the pit of her stomach, a sinking, aching - she closed her eyes and followed it down, what else was going on . . . . 

“I have to tell you something,” she said finally. “That was really hurtful the way you said that, about her being better than me. You’ve never done anything to deliberately hurt me before.” 

“Darlin’, I did not mean that.” His voice was shaking. 

“I don’t care if you meant it, and I don’t even particularly care if it’s true. But did you say it to hurt me? Or make me jealous?” 

There was silence a moment. “I don’t know why I said that. It just fucking isn’t true, first of all. It was like . . . I was trying to get you to react like other women. Which is fucked up, because that is the absolutely last thing I would want.” 

“It’s weird to have roles again, isn’t it? To figure out what everyone expects?” 

There was a long pause. She just held the phone and listened to him breathe. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Yeah, it really is. I mean, it kicked back in really quick, it was all I ever did before. But I didn’t know any different before.”

She took a deep breath. Her heart hurt with what she had to say, but she had no doubt that it was the right thing, no matter what it cost. “Christian, you need to know this. All I can think about is being with you, but if you are trying to push me away or scare me off, I will go.”

“No, Amanda. I don’t - I am sorry. I didn’t mean it and I won’t say anything like that again.”

“No, I know, baby. It’s fine. It’s not even what you said. But before - you couldn’t chase me off with a stick, no matter what. I just realized, so I wanted to make sure you understand - it’s not like that anymore.” 

“Ah.” There was a long pause. “Got it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I don’t blame you. You’ve got enough shit without more from me. But,” he continued more strongly, some iron in his voice, “I’m not gonna run you off, and I don’t want to let you go.” He paused. “I mean, I’ll let go if you tell me I have to -” 

“No.” 

“Baby, someday . . .” 

“No,” she repeated. “You were what got me through my life before, and now - shit. Here I am saying I’ll leave if you chase me off, as if . . .” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Let’s not talk about it. I can’t. How’s the filming going?” 

He took her lead and they talked about other things, but she was shaking and his voice was rough when she had to get off the phone. 

 

She reached absently for the phone buzzing on her desk as she hit the last key to save the document on her laptop. It wouldn’t be Christian, he had just called yesterday. Maybe a classroom calling back to schedule a visit - she glanced at the phone as she answered and felt her stomach drop. 458 - that was Portland.

“He - hello?” 

“Hey, baby.” Christian’s warm, gravelly voice. 

“Oh - hi! I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” Her heart was pounding and she was flushed and she could barely breathe, just like that. 

“Is this OK?” he asked. 

“Yes - actually I’m home alone. This is perfect. How did you get away to call during the day?” 

“Just worked out.” 

“I’m so glad to hear from you!” She could breath again, although her pulse was still speeding. “I thought I’d have to wait another few days.” She plopped into her papa-san in the corner of the office. “And I don’t have to hide in the basement. I’m in my office - you remember the big fuzzy chair?” 

“Yeah.” She waited, but he didn’t say anything more. 

She sat up straight and her stomach roiled. “Is everything OK?”  _ Oh God _ , she thought.  _ He’s calling to tell me it’s over. I can’t _ \- she took a deep breath. “Baby, are you all right?” 

“I felt so bad about that last call,” he finally said, his voice rough. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t leave it like that.” She heard a gasp, or a sigh. “I just needed to make sure I didn’t chase you off.” 

“Oh my God.” She collapsed back into the chair. “I was sick. I was so terrified you were calling to say we couldn’t talk anymore.” 

“Oh, no, darlin’. I’m not - I’m not the one who’ll call this off.” 

“Shit, you scared me.” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

Finally she could breathe again, but her chest was still tight. “It’s ok. As long as we can keep talking.” She was holding her phone so tight her knuckles were white. “What are we going to do? How can we go on like this?” 

“I do not know.” He gave a short, hard sigh. “I need to--” He stopped. “Can I see you?” 

Her breath caught again and it felt like her heart stopped. She finally managed to ask, “How?” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Are you kidding me? I - yes. It is a yes. Christian, how? Is there any way to get together without blowing up our lives?” 

There was a pause. “Really? I didn’t think you would . . .” His voice was shaking. 

“Wait - do you not want to?” She felt faint. What the hell was he doing to her, and why?

“Fuck. Amanda - are you there, baby?” 

“Yes. What do you want? Why are you doing this?” Her voice cracked on a sob. 

“Amanda - listen. I do want to. All I can think about is seeing you. I need to. OK? Darlin’?” His voice was desperate and had an edge that cut through the din in her head. 

“Ok.” She gasped as her breathing got back under control. 

“I am so sorry - I am such an ass. I need to see you so bad, and I haven’t asked because I didn’t imagine you’d be willing to leave your husband and come see me. I couldn’t ask it.” 

“After everything we went through - why do you think I would want this less than you do?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I just don’t want to mess up your life.” 

_ You don’t know how much you mean to me _ , she thought.  _ How could you not know?  _ “Christian. I love you.” 

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Jesus, Amanda, I love you so much.” 

She squeezed her eyes shut.  “How? Do you have an idea how we can do this?”

“Ok.” He took another big breath. “Let’s see. Once filming starts I’ll be tied up for months - there is no fucking way I can get away.” 

She finally felt the pain in her chest ease. She knew this voice - he was in problem-solving mode. If there was a way to work it out, he would. And before - she knew that Christian, too. Still afraid he would be left alone, he was protecting himself, as she protected herself. 

“We might get a break on -” 

“Christian.” 

He paused. “Yeah, baby.” 

“It’s just me, OK? Don’t be afraid to talk to me. I care about you so much.” 

“I know.” His voice was warmer and calmer. “I just get so scared.” 

She swallowed hard. For years he could never have admitted being afraid. “I would love to see you,” she whispered. “I just don’t want to mess up your life.” 

“Too late for that. It’s fucked.” He chuckled. “I mean, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. But this. Is. Fucked.” His voice became more businesslike again. “Now, if I can get to Cincinnati, can you come meet me at a hotel?” 

“Yes. I mean, the more notice I have the easier, but I can make it work. How will you do that?” 

He explained the plan. Before the rest of the cast got there and they started filming  _ The Librarians, _ he could probably make an excuse and fly home to Nashville for the weekend, and then drive to Cincinnati. “It’s about two hours, right?” 

“Yeah. Oh my God - can we really do this? I can see you?” 

“I cannot wait to get my hands on you,” he growled.

 

 


End file.
